The WinWin Scenario
by twistyguru
Summary: Prequel to Dating the Captain, this is the story of how Jim Kirk and Pavel Chekov met...and a ship named Kobayashi Maru. SLASH! Kirk/Chekov. Explains what 'really' happened in the simulator Kirk's third time around.... Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** The prequel to Dating the Captain, this is the story of how Jim Kirk and Pavel Chekov became acquainted...and a little scenario called the Kobayashi Maru.

**Disclaimer:** as with Dating the Captain, I own nothing, and make no profit from this other than warm fuzzies. This is not done for filthy lucre, but rather out of love, and as a tribute to the legacy of Gene Roddenberry, the Great Bird of the Galaxy himself, who showed us the future.

_"I don't believe in the no-win scenario."--James T. Kirk_

Note: _spoken in Russian_

**CHAPTER ONE**

Every Story has a Beginning....

"Begin Personal Log."

"I have just been introduced to the Kobayashi Maru test, which I failed."

James Tiberius Kirk, cadet at Starfleet Academy, paused, grimaced and went on.

"After the test, one of my 'crew members' in the simulator told me that I actually did fairly well. Apparently, the Kobayashi Maru is a 'no win' scenario, and is designed to be impossible to complete successfully. I think she was trying to tell me not to worry about it, but still…" he trailed off, thinking back. Had he missed something? Neglected to follow standard procedure? Not seen an opening that was carefully hidden?

"Now that I've been through it, I've been sworn to secrecy about the test, in order to 'preserve the validity and reliability of the test for future use'. According to what I was told, every command line cadet is put through the Kobayashi Maru, and it's obviously one of the Academy's best-kept secrets. Still, I'm not convinced that I couldn't have done better."

"End Log entry."

Jim Kirk sat back, thinking furiously. It had started out just like another simulation…boring, boring, waiting until whatever 'it' was going to be that day to start; until then, boring, boring….

Until today, he'd actually enjoyed being in the simulator, especially when they were running combat sims. Of course, that didn't happen very often, not with a full crew—in retrospect, he should have realized that something was up when he noticed that the simulator was filled with what would have been the normal bridge compliment for an _Antares_ class vessel. And, of course, his instructions had been a bit more vague than usual, but at the time he hadn't thought anything about that. It wouldn't have been out of the ordinary for the man in the 'hot seat' to be given vague, or even misleading instructions—the instructors were bastards like that, but they'd never deliberately lie to you—but still, the 'routine patrol' set-up was a common beginning for whatever the twisted minds of the training staff could come up with.

When the 'call' from the 'ship in distress' came in, he'd smelled a rat. Of course, with the 'routine patrol' being 'along the Klingon border' you were virtually guaranteed that at least one warbird would put in an appearance at some point. Still, it wasn't considered good form to raise the shields at the first sign of trouble, and typically got you a low-grade arse chewing if you did. The accepted practice was to suspend your disbelief and act like nothing at all was going to happen…which was sheer nonsense, he'd yet to hear about a simulator run that didn't have SOMETHING for you to deal with. And, he supposed that it was theoretically possible that a Klingon would want to talk, rather than fight…but he seriously doubted it.

So, he'd been handed a crippled ship stuck right in the middle of the Neutral Zone. No biggie, he could do this. Scan for enemies, look sharp for any distortions that might be cloaked ships (and damn the Romulans for supplying the Klingons with cloaking devices, anyway!), notify Starfleet of their intent to mount a rescue, and go to yellow alert….

And then it had all gone to hell.

He'd managed to get the shields up before the first Klingon fired, so he'd still _had_ a ship when the next two decloaked. He knew he'd gotten lucky when his first salvo of return fire blew the port nacelle off the last ship in line. Clearly, the simulated-Klingons hadn't expected him to charge them, then spin back around to take them in the flanks. He'd taken his lumps—his port shields were trashed, and he had hull damage on three decks—but two of the first three ships were heavily damaged and the other was an expanding cloud of gas and scrap—and then the next triad had decloaked off his port beam aft.

He hadn't given up, even then. When the next salvo 'killed' his helm officer, he'd taken the position himself, whipping around to starboard and managing to rake the bulbous forward hull of one of his new opponents.

It hadn't been enough, not by half.

The massed disruptor fire from the remaining ships had punched through his aft shields and practically sheered off his right warp nacelle. The emergency protocols had taken the mains off line, and with that his remaining shields had dropped to barely a third of their previous strength. Even worse, one of the Klingons was almost as good at maneuvering as he was, and was riding his tail like he was a comet. When that Klingon's disruptors cycled, his next shot had ripped into the Federation ship's shuttle bay, setting off a chain reaction of explosions that had eventually blown the engineering hull to pieces. As the bridge filled with the smoke of burning circuits, he saw his ship dying around him…just as another D7 passed in front of him. As a last gesture of defiance, he managed to get off one last salvo of photons, but the death of that particular ship wasn't enough to affect the outcome by that point.

His ship was destroyed, his crew was dead, and there were still enemy vessels left to ravage the Kobayashi Maru.

Game over.

Kirk had just sat there, stunned. The defeat had been so total, so overwhelming that he didn't know how to react. Even when the 'dead' crew began to stand up and brush themselves off, he'd stayed there in the helmsman's seat, staring at the now-blank viewscreen.

He vaguely remembered a couple of people telling him that he'd actually done well—two enemy destroyed outright, three so heavily damaged that they'd need months of yard time—before he could pull himself together enough to go to the post-scenario briefing. At the briefing he'd answered as best he could, knowing that it wasn't good enough, and far below his usual standards, but he was still in shock over what he had just had done to him.

It didn't help at all when Captain Delatorre, one of his favorite tactical instructors, commented that if he hadn't spread the fire in his third salvo between two attackers, he would've had a record of three enemies destroyed and one damaged, rather than two and three. Of course, Jim's way left only one enemy untouched and undamaged, rather than two, but still….

Now, back in his room, he saw Delatorre's point—three destroyed and one in the yard was preferable to only two destroyed and three in the yard dog's hands—but it wouldn't have changed the outcome of the scenario in the least.

Sighing, he shut off the log and pulled up a tactical simulation program on the room's comp terminal. Maybe if he had used the wreckage of the first destroyed ship to shield him until he could come about to attack the other two…?

***

"Begin Personal Log."

"I've been asking around, and it seems there's actually no way to beat the Kobayashi Maru scenario in practice, because the program keeps throwing Klingons at you until your ship is destroyed. No one knows this for sure, but it's the best explanation that fits with what everyone's told me about the test. The Klingons attack regardless of what you do, and if you raise shields as you go in you get three wings of warbirds rather than just two. Also, if you go in mother-naked, it starts you off with only two ships, but quickly works its way up to the point of ridiculousness. The program seems to have a rapid ramp-up of the hostility level, so that if you quickly defeat the first ships the later waves come closer and closer together. Even ignoring the Klingons and making a mad dash for the Maru won't work, because there's always at least one Klingon waiting behind the ship to blast you the second you drop shields to bring the Maru crew aboard."

He paused, thinking, then continued. "I guess you could always run in, blow up the Maru and run like hell, but I don't think that'd get you very many points. Of course, you might be able to catch a few Klingons in the explosion, but you'd still get a major chewing for killing innocents. And, I rather doubt that the instructors would buy the reasoning that the crew of the Maru is already dead, without more detailed scans than you'd have time to get before the whole damn Klingon fleet arrives."

Disgusted, he took a drink from the bottle in his right hand, then went on. "So, if the program is written to be unbeatable, the only way I can think of to win the scenario is to change the program. And, of course, I'm not nearly good enough with computers to do that, so I guess I'll just have to try again. Maybe I'm missing something, after all."

Smiling, Kirk shut off the recorder. There…that ought to be sufficient to cover him, at need. Oh, personal logs were supposed to be locked, sealed and confidential, but Jim Kirk wasn't about to trust his career to that. Not with what he was planning….

***

Pavel Andreievich Chekov was not having a good day.

_"Stupid, wretched thing! Motherless son of a misbegotten cow! Useless, worthless piece of junk! Why do I bother with you at all?"_ he cursed the computer console he was currently working at. Immune to his words (perhaps because it did not speak Russian), the console continued to show only uninterpretable garbage, rather than the complex series of multidimensional transforms he wanted it to display. Getting no response to his vocal epithets, the cadet sighed; then got down on his knees and opened the computer's front access panel for the third time.

_"Now, you stupid, uncultured beast! You will tell me what it is that is wrong with you, and I will not be forced to have you replaced with an abacus," _he muttered, crawling halfway into the console to peer and pry at its inner workings. Now, what could be wrong with it this time, he wondered? He had already adjusted the duotronic matrix array, and reset the collinear processors. Could it be the integral vector buffer? Muttering to himself, he began checking the connections to the vector buffer board, only to be interrupted by someone clearing their throat in the room behind him.

"Just a minute…I will be right with you," Chekov called out, suppressing an urge to sigh at the interruption.

Jim Kirk heard the voice from inside the bowels of the computer console, and raised his voice a bit above his normal tone. "That's okay, take your time. I'm in no hurry."

Truthfully, he wasn't in any hurry. The view from where he was standing just inside the door was quite satisfactory. A pair of slender legs rose up to a set of buttocks that was, in a word, spectacular. "An arse like a Georgia peach," Bones McCoy would have described it, Kirk thought, and he certainly wouldn't have disagreed. Kirk grinned as he indulged himself in a long, open, admiring look at the rump so carelessly displayed before him. Of course, it wasn't his usual fare, but hey—straight but not narrow, that was Jim Kirk—and he'd had more than one experience in the past with members of his own sex. Of course, off the top of his head he couldn't remember when he'd been with someone of either gender with a butt that high and firm…and tight, if he was any judge.

He was able, barely; to wipe the leer off his face and put on an appropriately neutral expression as the young man that spectacular derriere was attached to crawled out from under the console. Reaching down, Kirk pulled the young man to his feet easily.

"Thank you," the young man…boy, really…said, brushing himself off. "Now, how may I be of service?" he asked.

Kirk suppressed a grin at the double entendre the young man had just made, and answered with as straight a face as he could manage. "I'm looking for a Cadet Chekov…he's supposed to be working on the computers in this area?"

"I am Pavel Chekov, Mr…?" he said, turning his introduction into a question.

"Kirk, Jim Kirk," the older man replied. Confusion showed in his face as he looked around and past the other man. "I'm sorry; I was told that Pavel Chekov was at the top of the class in computer programming." And several other subjects as well, but that wasn't what Kirk needed at the moment.

The younger man sighed and shook his head. "I am that Pavel Chekov. Yes, I am very young to be in Starfleet. No, I do not know what questions will be on the computer operations final examination. No, I am not interested in helping you study, or in studying for the final examination with you. Will there be anything else?" he asked, the look on his face saying very clearly that he hoped the answer was 'no'. Obviously, he had given these answers enough for them to become rote.

"Actually, yes, there is," Kirk said, putting his best 'I'm a good guy, you can trust me' smile in place. "But…and I've got to say this…you really are young to be in Starfleet, aren't you?"

The younger man sighed, and sat down, waving Kirk to a chair opposite his. "Yes, I am." Then he merely sat there, looking at the man who was interrupting him with a resigned look on his face.

Giving himself a mental shake, Kirk sat, then gave the other man a long, careful look. Even though the man's expression was downcast, he had a very attractive, almost pretty face. High cheekbones drew Kirk's eyes upwards to hazel orbs, just under a shock of curly hair. Below, a set of extremely kissable lips was drawn into a neutral line, and the arch of an elegant neck flowed up into the tiny dimple on the boy's chin.

Kirk gave himself a mental shake as he realized just how he was thinking about the young man's face. Since when did he describe another man's lips 'kissable'? Well, while sober, that is.

Apparently, since right now…and they still looked quite kissable.

"I'm sorry, maybe I've found the wrong person. See, I was looking for someone to help me with a computer problem, and it's kind of complicated," Kirk said, giving himself a little shake.

"I probably can help you with computer issues," the younger man said, his tone conveying the sigh he desperately wanted to make. "Can you tell me what problem is?"

Kirk smiled, and shook his head. "It's more than a little complicated, actually," he said, trying to be dismissive and polite at the same time.

"I can not tell you if I can be of help without knowing more about situation," the young man said neutrally.

Kirk smiled, putting an effort into appearing friendly and trustworthy. "Say, I'm hungry! Are you hungry? Want to grab a bite to eat?" he asked. "My treat," he added hastily, as the young man turned to look at the computer console he had just crawled out from under.

"I should not," he said, then gave in to the impulse and sighed heavily at the garbled screens. He seemed to wilt for just a moment in his chair, and Kirk, sensing an opening, jumped in.

"Oh, come on…it's the middle of the afternoon, and I bet you haven't had a break since lunch." At the guilty look on the younger man's face, he smiled, and played a hunch. "Wait a minute…you skipped lunch, didn't you?"

Chekov turned to him, eyes wide, then nodded guiltily. "I was hoping to run a complete set of transforms for Professor Semmes before class tomorrow, but now I do not see how I will be able to do so," he said miserably. Something about his tone and the slump in his shoulders touched something in Kirk that only a second before had been crowing in glee that his hunch—once again—had paid off.

"Well, that's it, then! You'll never get anything done if you pass out from low blood sugar," he said heartily. Of course, stealing one of Bones McCoy's best lines couldn't hurt. "Come on, I'm buying…please?" he asked, smiling in a way that said 'I'm really harmless, and what could it hurt?'

"I…I suppose it would be more efficient for me to speak with you while we eat," the young man said, wavering.

"Exactly! Now, how do you feel about chocolate?" Kirk asked quickly, before the curly-haired boy could change his mind.

"Chocolate? I love chocolate," Chekov said, his eyes lighting up, then dimming again. "But I should not eat chocolate at this time of day," he said, sadly.

"Why not?" Kirk asked, standing himself to prompt the other man to stand.

Standing, the younger man was a good three inches shorter than Kirk, and he looked up into Kirk's blue eyes without pretense. "I have…what is called 'sugar rush', that makes me do odd things," he explained.

"Oh, like what?" Kirk asked, interested.

"Last time my classmates gave me chocolate on empty stomach, I worked all problems in n-dimensional calculus textbook."

"That doesn't sound too odd," Kirk quirked on eyebrow as the young man shut down the console and turned back to him.

"I am sorry, I did not explain very well." His 'v's' were pronounced like 'w's', which Kirk was starting to find appealing. "It was only second week of class, and I worked _all_ problems in the textbook."

"As in…the entire book?" Kirk asked, surprised. He'd had the one required course in n-d calc, then thankfully moved on. His class had only covered about a quarter of the text, and the last half was reserved for the advanced mathematics and science seminars that only a handful ever qualified for. To have worked the entire book…!

The young man just shrugged and walked out of the room. "There were some errors in the demonstration problems, which I discovered. Captain Eddings was rather upset with me until Commander Spock confirmed my work," he said, striding down the corridor with Kirk at his side.

"So…you're telling me that you worked through the entire n-d calc book in the second week of your first class?" Kirk couldn't believe it.

"And made corrections," Chekov said. Then, he noticed that he was walking by himself. Turning, he saw a flummoxed Jim Kirk just standing there, shaking his head in amazement. "Are you well?" he asked carefully. Long experience had taught him that telling people about some of the things he had done caused them to laugh at him, or insist that he was lying, or something equally unpleasant.

Jim Kirk gave his head a final shake and looked at the young man happily, a broad smile lighting his face. "Oh, I'm quite well…and I think that you may just be the man I'm looking for after all."

***

"I am not one you should be asking to do this thing, Mr. Kirk."

"Pavel, please…it's Jim, okay? And, if there's anyone who can do this, it's you, and we both know it," Kirk said around a mouthful of sandwich. "How's your sandwich?"

"My sandwich is very good, thank you. This is very nice place," Chekov said, looking around. Kirk had led him out of the computer building and on a short stroll across the Academy grounds before hailing a cab for the short ride to Ghirardelli Square, where he had insisted on buying a late lunch at a small sandwich shop there in the Square. Jim liked it not only because the food was invariably excellent, but also because it was only a few steps more to the Ghirardelli Ice Cream and Chocolate Shop. He couldn't count the number of times that a simple lunch date had led to a chocolate sundae, and then to working off the sundae horizontally back in the Academy dorms. And, even though he hadn't initially thought any further than getting the young man sitting across from him wired on chocolate and turning him loose on the simulator with a comp terminal, Kirk found his thoughts wandering in…other directions.

"I'm glad you like this place. It's one of my favorites," Kirk smiled. "And, since you won't have an empty stomach after we've eaten here, I thought we might finish off with some chocolate."

Chekov shook his head. "No matter how much chocolate you make me eat, Mr. Kirk…Jim," he corrected himself, "it will not change fact that what you ask can not be done. Is not possible," he finished, then bit into his sandwich again. Chewing, he swallowed, then seemed to realize that there was a small drip of mayo on the side of his mouth. Kirk found himself fascinated as a small pink tongue darted out to lick the errant condiment away. "Does not matter," Chekov went on, shaking his head. "Is not possible," he repeated.

"Why not?" Kirk asked. Rather than being confrontational, he was genuinely curious about why this young genius—for he certainly was that, Kirk was rapidly coming to believe—kept saying that the simulator couldn't be hacked. And that, not ten minutes after he had told Kirk (during Jim's lead up to asking 'the big question') that any computer system could eventually be compromised. "I thought you just said that you could get into any computer system?"

"Any computer system I can access," Chekov said, waving one finger for emphasis. "But simulations computer is physically separate from other computers at Academy, for security reasons…and, I suspect, to prevent people from doing exactly what you are asking me to do. No," he repeated, "is not possible. Not to mention, would have us both expelled," he snapped his fingers, "like that! So!"

Now, this objection, Jim had anticipated, and he already had his answer ready. "Are you sure about that?" he asked, slyly.

"Of course! Would be violation of honor code, and many regulations." Curly hair bounced as the young man vigorously nodded his head. "Clearly, expulsion offense."

"Even for the no-win scenario?" Kirk asked, raising an eyebrow and looking confident.

Apparently, something in his face made Chekov look at him suspiciously. "You are not supposed to be talking about the Kobya…that scenario," he said, catching himself after he had already revealed that he knew the name of the scenario. "Is against regulations."

"So, Mr. Chekov…I'm wondering just how you know about it, when you're not a command-line cadet." Jim smirked at his blushing companion. Gotcha! he thought.

Pavel Chekov looked down at his food, blushing furiously. "I…am under orders not to speak of it," he said finally, his voice very small.

"Hey, Pavel, it's okay, really…whatever it is, your secret's safe with me, and you don't have to say anything more if you don't want to," he said carefully. Then, putting two and two together, he went on in a soft, casual voice. "Last year there was a big uproar about how somebody had opened up the Academy's secure computer files like a Marine opens a rations pack. I remember that every comp terminal on campus was scanned, scrubbed and rebooted. But, they never did say who had done it, or what they had seen when they were in the files. That was you, wasn't it?"

Chekov seemed to find his half-eaten sandwich fascinating beyond belief. When he spoke, it was still in that very small, very young voice. "I made mistake…I did not know Professor was making joke when he said anyone who defeated Academy security protocols would get automatic 'A' in course. I thought he would give extra credit...." He trailed off, not seeing the look of amazement and admiration that lit up Kirk's face.

"Oh my…you thought…but how…oh my…" was all that Kirk could say before he burst out laughing.

At the first laugh, Pavel Chekov's head snapped up, his eyes bright with unshed tears, rage and shame blossoming on his face. "I did not know! I thought was class assignment, for credit! And besides, I only opened files and read them myself, did not copy them!" he finished angrily. "Then, I closed security protocols back, and carried only copy of work to Professor by hand, on chip!"

"Pavel…Pavel, don't be mad! I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing at that stupid Professor, and at all the chaos you must have caused!" Jim was laughing so hard he was crying, and paused to wipe his eyes. "You must have made most of the staff crap their pants when they found out!" He took a deep, calming breath. "Pavel Chekov, that has got to be one of the best stunts any cadet has ever pulled at the Academy, ever. So, why can't you talk about it?"

"Admiral Komack and Commandant Izikawa made me promise not to tell anyone," Chekov answered, his eyes once more downcast and his voice soft. "It would…be disruptive to know that someone…as young as I…did what I did…." He shook his head, unwilling or unable to say anything further.

Jim Kirk looked at the dejected figure across the table from him. Without thinking about what he was doing, he reached out and gently lifted the younger man's chin with his fingers. When a pair of bright hazel eyes finally met his, he carefully reached up and wiped away the tears that were spilling down across those high cheekbones. "You mean, it would embarrass the hell out of him, your Professor, your other classmates, and the Academy's computer security people." Getting no answer except that intense gaze, Kirk went on. "Pavel, what you did is nothing short of amazing. Starfleet has some of the best computer people in the Federation on staff, and consults with the Daystrom Institute regularly to make sure their equipment and programs are always up to date. For you to beat them all like you did is an incredible achievement, whether you understood what the Professor was saying or not. You deserved a commendation, at the very least."

"I was happy at time not to be expelled," the young man answered him.

"Oh, bull!" Kirk replied, still keeping his voice soft. The last thing he wanted to do was spook the boy. "That's the kind of original, out of the box thinking that we're always being harped on about, isn't it? It's the same thing with the Ko…the scenario I've been talking about. What's the use of having a no-win scenario? After all, they've already proven that the computer can always throw enough ships at you to beat anybody…big deal! So, what's the use of proving something that's meaningless? If the computer can just pull out a hundred ships to your one, why bother even trying? So, since our instructors never do anything like that for no reason, they've got to be looking for something else…and obviously, nobody's figured out a way to give them what they're looking for, at least not yet. How do we know that they're _not_ looking for somebody to actually manage to break their security on the scenario?" He gave the younger man a gentle smile, not realizing that his hand was now caressing Pavel's cheek gently.

Pavel Chekov, on the other hand, was all too aware of the hand holding and caressing him, and felt himself settling into the gentle touch. "I…I do not know," he admitted, unwilling to do anything to break the soft contact. "It does not make sense to write program which cannot be beaten, just to have such program." He closed his eyes, then drew back to allow himself to think more clearly without the distraction of a warm, calloused hand on him.

"No one can seriously believe that program such as that is actually beatable," Pavel said thoughtfully. "Any child could lay out basics of such program, is not difficult. So, logically, must be other reason." He paused, and looked at Jim Kirk frankly. "No other reason was given to you, _da_?"

"_Nyet_." Jim smiled, and was please when Pavel smiled back. "Oh, by the way, that's about the extent of my Russian," he said, and was rewarded with an even bigger smile from his new friend.

"Is fine, I will teach you to speak Russian, is most beautiful of all languages," Chekov said.

Jim Kirk surprised himself when he answered immediately. "Not as beautiful as my teacher," he said, then had to look down himself as Chekov's eyes widened and he blushed prettily.

"I…I do not…am not…" he stammered, embarrassed yet again, only to hear Jim cut him off.

"Yes, you are…and I'm surprised that no one's told you that before," he said.

"No, no one," Chekov replied, and once again found his eyes meeting Kirk's blue gaze. "Not like that," he corrected.

"Then I'm glad I'll be the first," Jim Kirk said, then reached out across the table to lay his hand on Chekov's. "Although I'm sure I won't be the only one, Pavel."

For a long moment, the two just sat there looking into each other's eyes. Then, shyly, Pavel drew his hand back and picked up his sandwich. Taking another bite to cover his unease at the intimacy of the conversation, he tried to move back to the original topic.

"If, as you say, our instructors are looking for original solutions, then you may be correct about altering program," he said thoughtfully. "Certainly it would seem to be most obvious solution, but will require great care and planning to accomplish."

"Will require?" Kirk asked. He was also glad that the conversation had swung back to the problem of the scenario, but found himself strangely missing the intimacy of the previous moments. That was something that rarely happened to him, but he'd take the time to worry about it later. "Not 'might require' or 'would require', but 'will require'?" He grinned, when Pavel nodded back at him.

"I am not willing to concede your analysis of instructor's intent yet, Mr. Kirk," he grinned slightly. "Still, there is certain logic to argument that warrants further study."

"So, Mr. Chekov, I take that you're willing to give my ideas that 'further study'?" Kirk grinned back, knowing that he'd won this round.

Pavel Chekov nodded, taking another bite of his sandwich before he replied. "Yes, on one condition," he said, his face neutral.

"Okay," Kirk said, warily. Just what was this young genius going to demand for his assistance? And, would it be a price he was willing to pay?

"Yes, is most important." Pavel Chekov's face was blank, although there was an impish twinkle dancing in his eyes. "You promised chocolate sundae, after lunch." Then, he blushed and grinned at the same time while he watched the effect his words had on the older man.

Jim Kirk sat back, shocked at how well he'd been played, then grinned. "Well, since I promised, I guess I have to come through, don't I?"

"Would be best if you did," Pavel smiled back warmly, taking another bite of sandwich.

Jim just nodded, and went back to his own meal. Of course, now he had to make sure to leave room for the sundaes he would shortly be buying.

***

A quick trip to the sundae shop turned into a long, leisurely afternoon of ice cream, a stroll down Fisherman's Wharf, a sea lion watching session, a cable car ride, and a long rambling discussion about how each of them had come to be at Starfleet Academy. Jim found himself opening up to the young man at his side in ways that he'd never opened up to anyone—not even his own family—about growing up without his father, and his rebellious, tumultuous youth. In return, he learned a little bit about Pavel's large family, to the point that he finally laughed and told the younger man that he'd need a print out to follow the list of brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, honorary aunts and uncles, cousins and various other peoples. Pavel had just smiled at this, blushed in a way that Jim was rapidly coming to find charming, and said that he could probably have a list by sometime the next day. This led to a retaliatory tickle, which Pavel frantically tried to dodge, which only made Jim more determined. In short order, the pair was laughing and gasping together happily…until they realized that Pavel's back was pressed up against a wall and that Jim had his arms around the smaller boy.

The moment turned serious, and Jim Kirk found himself being carefully studied by warm, unblinking hazel eyes. He found that he didn't mind the look at all, and that he also didn't mind what he saw reflected back in those eyes. Of course, he knew that he wasn't the man that Pavel Chekov thought he saw—no one human could possibly be that—but for some reason he found himself wanting to try harder to be that man.

"Pavel…" he said, then stopped. For the first time in his life, James T. Kirk found himself at a loss for words.

"Jim…" Pavel responded, then pushed against his captor gently. "I think…that I must return to my work soon."

Jim nodded, hating to break the moment but completely unable to pressure the delicate-appearing young man in his arms. Sighing, he stepped back, and offered Pavel his hand in compensation. The hand that slid into his was warm and soft, and squeezed his fingers gently.

***

The conversation on the way back to the Academy dorms was muted, as each man was caught up in enjoying the company of the other. Oddly enough, they hadn't released their grip on each other's hands until they were standing outside of Pavel's room.

"I had wonderful time today," the young Russian said, his accent more pronounced than usual, his voice hushed.

"Me, too," Jim agreed. He made no move to leave.

Pavel hadn't moved, either. "I must go," he said, still not moving.

"You've got stuff to do."

"Yes."

"Important stuff."

"_Da_. Very."

"You should go, then."

"_Da_."

Neither of them had moved during this exchange, content to stand and look at each other. Then, Jim sighed and backed away slightly, breaking the moment.

"Your roommate will be back, if he's not already here," he said.

"Oh…I do not have roommate," Pavel said. "I have not had one since I came here. I was told it would not be appropriate, because of my age."

"Oh?" Jim asked, his interest peaked. "So, if I came in, we wouldn't bother anybody?"

"No, but if you come in…" Pavel started, then paused and took his own deep breath. "If you come in, Jim, I am afraid that no work will be done," he finished, blushing to the tips of his ears.

"And would that be so bad?" Jim breathed, closing the distance between them again. He found himself wanting to be with this young man more intensely than he could remember wanting to be with someone in a long, long time.

Pavel put his hands on Jim's chest, not pushing him away but stopping him from coming any further. "_Da_, it would, today. I have things which must be done before tomorrow, and you would only distract me from that."

"Only distract you? Oh, I think I could do more than just distract you," Jim grinned, his interest plainly showing. He let his hands drift lightly down the sides of the younger man caressingly, taking care to keep his touch light, gentle.

"_Da_, you could, and I would most probably let you," Pavel smiled shyly. "But, I must do this, and also I must think about what you asked of me, and that I can not do with you here," he finished.

"You don't have to think about my little project today," Jim wheedled, not realizing that only a few hours ago he had wanted that very thing and nothing else.

"_Da_, I must, while is fresh on mind," Pavel answered. "Now, go, before I do foolish thing and ask you in." He gave the gentlest of pushes, and Jim let himself be moved back out of Pavel's personal space.

"All right, if you insist. But I want to take you to lunch tomorrow. Where can I meet you?"

"I have seminar until noon, but then am free for afternoon. Will front steps of Academy be acceptable?" Pavel asked, his smile hopeful.

"Tomorrow, noon, front steps…I'll be there," Jim said, stepping away. Then, right before he turned away, "Oh, and Pavel…" he paused, then decided not to say what he was thinking. "Tomorrow, noon. Don't stand me up!" he said, instead. And with that, he spun and strode away purposefully.

Pavel Chekov stood there for a long moment before he smiled and turned to activate his door. "No, Mr. Kirk, that I will not do."

**A/N: ** well, here it is, the prequel to Dating the Captain. Many people (thank you all!) requested a sequel, but this one needed to be written first. And, as usual, what started out to be just a little throw-together piece turned into a monster that's taken much longer than I thought it would. Still, it's almost finished, so I thought I'd go ahead and break it up into a few parts, for your enjoyment. Yes, it's woven into the text of the new movie, and will explain to one and all just what was really going on 'behind the scenes'. Plus, I had to explain how the events of Dating the Captain came to be, now didn't I?

**Next Chapter: ** the plot thickens...and there's chocolate cake!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Becoming more than friends…Jim comes to a realization…Pavel thinks they're breaking up…Uhura prevents a tragedy…and the Kobayashi Maru scenario!

**Disclaimer:** own nothing, making no money, doing this out of love and respect for Star Trek—for all of the pleasure Trek has given me over the years.

Note: _spoken in Russian_

**Chapter 2**

Noon the next day found Jim Kirk waiting for Pavel Chekov when he came out of his last class of the day. Lunch at a restaurant just off the Academy campus was followed by a couple of hours lounging on the Academy green, most of it spent with Chekov leaning against a tree, Kirk's head in his lap. Jim found, to his great surprise, that he was enjoying the simple act of spending time with the young man, doing absolutely nothing of importance. Of course, they actually did have some very serious conversations about serious issues—Jim's desire to command a starship, the basic unfairness underlying the Kobayashi Maru scenario, Pavel's difficulties in being at the Academy at such a young age, some preliminary ideas about beating the no-win scenario, what it was like growing up in Iowa and Russia—but mostly it was about Jim and Pavel, being together, without the pressures of having to be "Mr. Kirk" and "Mr. Chekov".

Jim also found it amazing that the pressure he would have felt with a female—to be charming and seductive—was absent from their interactions. And, to his delight, he was enjoying just being able to be himself, without that added pressure. Oh, he was attracted to the beautiful young man, certainly. He was also fairly certain that Pavel had similar feelings. Either that, or the Russian made a habit of playing with the hair of every man who put his head in his lap and smiled up at him. Still, it just wasn't the same, and Jim Kirk was finding himself relaxing in ways that let him know he hadn't realized just how tightly wound he was getting, inside his chest and his head.

Reveling in the sensation of Pavel's hand combing through his hair, Jim stretched and rumbled his contentment.

"You are purring, like great cat," Pavel said softly.

"Am not."

"_Da_, you are."

"I don't 'purr'."

"Oh, well, excuse me, great Captain of starships," Pavel mocked easily. The rank came out sounding like 'Keptin'. "You make sound like cheetah, or leopard, which to me is purring."

"I was…rumbling. Not purring."

"Silly me. My mistake. _Rumbling_." Pavel laughed, but didn't stop moving his hand. "In future, I will know. Great cat sound not purring, is _rumbling_."

"Careful now. I might not be too relaxed to tickle a certain Russian boy who's asking for it." Jim didn't bother to open his eyes or move as he made the threat.

"Why do I doubt that, when eyes are closed and head is here, in lap."

"I'll have to get up sometime."

"_Da_, but not for some time, I am thinking."

"True, so I guess you're safe for now."

"_Da_, for now…and for rest of evening, if you want to beat no-win scenario."

Jim froze momentarily, then relaxed as Pavel's hand continued to work its magic on his scalp. "I think that somebody's figured out a way to reprogram the simulator," he said softly.

"Do not move, farm boy. Is not complete plan yet, only beginnings of plan. Still I must think on problem, and this is very good place for thinking."

Kirk smiled at the 'farm boy' comment, since Pavel had more actual farming experience than he did. "So…you're saying that my head in your lap helps you to think?" he asked, opening one eye to look up.

Pavel's eyes were gentle as he looked down and met Jim's gaze. "Perhaps," he teased. "Or perhaps is fresh air, and breeze, and shade of trees, and sunlight shining off water, or…"

"Or holding my hand while you play with my hair?" Jim asked, reaching up just enough to capture Pavel's free hand and lace his fingers with it. He pulled their combined hands down to rest on his chest, without any resistance on Pavel's part.

"Perhaps," Pavel said, and Jim let his eye fall back shut. Perhaps my arse, he thought. James, old man, this is a good thing you've found here…better enjoy it while you can, before you move on.

As soon as that thought crossed his mind, Jim frowned slightly. That was his usual pattern…love 'em and leave 'em had been more than just a slogan to him these last few years; it had been a way of life. Oh, he'd enjoyed himself, sometimes tremendously, but there was always another woman waiting. And, the truth be told, he hadn't really expended any effort on females that weren't of a like mind. The ones that wanted more were just too much trouble for him to be interested in. And, he'd brought more than his share to this very spot, and done this very thing more than a few times. Still, this time was…different, in ways that he'd never even imagined before. So…why was he already starting to regret not having more time to do…whatever it was he and Pavel were doing right now.

Pavel's voice cut through his musing. "You are thinking too hard, great Captain. Is not for you to be thinking about this…is my time for thinking, and your time for helping by not thinking."

Jim pushed aside the feeling of regret and shifted his head fractionally, squeezing the hand he held at the same time. "Sorry…."

"Do not let it happen again," Pavel said, his voice teasingly stern. "Is weighty problem, and you must be very relaxed or I cannot think." His hand moved from Jim's hair just long enough to deliver the lightest of taps to the older man's cheek in a mockery of a slap, then went back to threading his fingers through the close-cut brown hair.

"Sorry…" Jim repeated, and brought the hand he was holding up to brush his lips against their joined fingers. "I'm relaxing, you're thinking."

"_Da, spacebo."_

"Mmmm," Jim Kirk purred, and relaxed into the feeling of being relaxed.

It was, for him, a new and wonderful sensation.

***

Some time later, after Jim had fallen asleep, only to be awakened by Pavel reluctantly shaking him gently, the pair had strolled back to Pavel's room. Outside of the door Jim was ready to leave when Pavel caught his arm gently.

"I need for you to come in, Jim. There is something we must discuss, and things which I need you to do." Pavel's face was so serious that Jim immediately knew that it involved the Kobayashi Maru test, rather than something more…entertaining.

Once in the sparsely-furnished room, Pavel made certain the door was locked and then sat at the room's comp terminal. Kirk looked around nonchalantly, noting how neat and well-kept the single-occupancy room was…and how one of the few personal touches was a holo of a large group, probably the young man's family. Then, he was drawn to the comp terminal, which was obviously not Academy standard issue.

"Pavel, your terminal…is it..?" he asked carefully.

Chekov didn't look up from the work he had already started doing, but he did wave the other man to a seat in the rooms only other chair. "Is advanced terminal, one of the newest models from Daystrom. I required it for work on last paper, and Academy Commandant had it installed for me to work here." He shrugged, looked over at his friend and smiled. "Was easier, here. Fewer distractions." Then, turning back to the terminal, he continued to work diligently.

"So…would I be too distracting if I asked what you were doing?" Jim asked.

"_Nyet_," Pavel said, giving a quick smiling glance to Jim before he sat back, pointing at the screen. "Ah, is how I thought! Is no way to enter simulator systems from external terminal; simulator is physically separate from all other computers in Academy." He paused, chewing on his lower lip in a way that did strange things to Jim's libido.

Giving himself a mental shake, he leaned forward to try and understand the complex diagram on the terminal's screen. He failed, but asked his question anyway.

"Pavel, I thought you had a way into the simulator computers? If you can't get in, then…?" he left the rest of the question unasked.

Pavel Chekov turned to face the older man with a blinding smile on his face. "Is no way from outside terminals, true. But, system must be much less protected inside simulator complex—would be no need for many common security protocols. So, only way to look at program is to go inside simulator complex and tap memory cores directly as program is running!" He was beaming like he had just announced the early arrival of Christmas, and Jim almost didn't have the heart to admit just how confused he still was.

"But, Pavel…there's no way you can be in the simulator to reprogram it while its running."

Pavel shook his head, still smiling. "Is not necessary to be there while program is running…only to tap memory cores while program is running!"

"Pavel, please…I'm not nearly as good with computers as you are. Could you please explain to the poor command cadet just how you're going to hack the simulator computer while it's running a simulation without being there, when there are no connections between that computer and any other one?"

"Is simple, Jim! We will go in and put this," he said, holding up a small silver object the size of a pack of cards, "in central simulator memory core. Then, put companion unit on my terminal, and wait for no-win scenario to run."

"Pavel…do I want to know what that is, or where you got it?" Jim asked carefully.

"Is device for assessing computer programs over long distances, using subspace transmission of program instructions. With simple modification, I can use device to access simulator programming, and modify it from this room. Is same as creating hard connection between one computer and another, only uses subspace technology like communicator." Pavel grinned, his eyes dancing.

Jim sat back, impressed. "Pavel, that's an incredible piece of technology you've got there. I don't think I've ever heard of anything quite like that."

Now Pavel blushed, but he was still grinning. "Is new invention—well, is almost one year old now, but soon will be common, I hope."

"You hope?" Jim paused, and then something occurred to him. "Pavel…did you invent that little toy?"

Pavel looked down, then looked at Jim through his lashes. "Was not just me…was team of engineers and fabricators. I was theoretical only…well, and programming of device itself."

"Pavel Chekov, you never cease to amaze me," Jim breathed. The one piece of technology on the planet that could make this whole crazy scheme work…and he had just spent the afternoon napping with his head in the inventor's lap. Sometimes he thought the universe might be playing tricks on him.

"Is nothing, really. Engineering was hard part, but fabrication used standard parts, so…" Pavel was trying to brush off his accomplishment, but Jim wasn't having any of it.

"Nothing, hell! Let me guess…it was your idea originally, wasn't it?" Jim insisted, reaching out and plucking the device from Pavel's hand. Receiving a nod of confirmation, he examined it closely. "Pavel Chekov…I don't know whether to kiss you for inventing this, or punch you for trying to be so damned humble about it."

"I would rather not be punched," Pavel retorted with some heat, then blushed as he realized the rest of what Jim had said. "As for the other…I…"

"Don't worry, I'm not going to assault you, at least not right now," Jim said, hiding the disappointment that suddenly bloomed in his chest. And, did Pavel look just a bit disappointed, as well? "No, right now, I'm going to sit here and be as quiet as I can while you do whatever modifications you need to do…then in a few hours I think we'll have to make a midnight commando raid on the simulator room."

"Commando raid? But if we are caught?" Pavel blanched at the thought of the consequences. Apparently, he hadn't thought that far ahead in his planning. Or, he hadn't really thought about what they might have to do to plant the program monitor.

Jim just shrugged. "We won't. Actually, I'd rather do it by myself, but I don't think I'll be able to put your little toy where it needs to be, will I?" He turned this last into a question, realizing as he did that he really didn't want to endanger the young man unnecessarily.

"No, I must go, to place monitor in optimal location. Will only require minute or two, but position is very important for best result."

"So, it's settled then. You get started, and I'll go grab us something to eat, since lunch was so long ago. You shouldn't have let me sleep so long," he chided, standing.

Pavel just shook his head. "I did not mind," he said. "Was very peaceful, and I thought you might need time as much as I."

Jim could only nod in agreement. Truly, he was feeling better in almost every way after their time together. Now, with a definite plan and something concrete to do, he was feeling more hopeful, energized and excited that he had in weeks.

"You're right, as always, Mr. Chekov," he joked. "Now, you get to work, while I go ransack the mess hall."

Pavel made a face at the thought of the Academy's food. "Eeh, no. If you want my device, you will get good food for me, from nice place, like lunch," he said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jim laughed out loud. "Yes, sir!" he saluted, and bounced out the door. "Back ASAP!" he called, and jogged away.

Pavel smiled to himself and turned to open up the small monitoring device. He had some rather delicate adjustments to do, and he really didn't need the distraction of Jim in the same room with him while he did them. Something about the way the other man moved…and smelled…and breathed…and looked at him. It was all just too distracting for Pavel to do his best work.

And, Pavel Chekov had already decided that Jim Kirk would always get his best work…always!

***

Of course, by the time Jim Kirk got to the sandwich shop and placed his order, he had figured out that Pavel probably hadn't needed all of the time they had spent on the Green to come up with his little plan. In fact, Kirk had already spent enough time around the young man to know that Chekov was much smarter than him in a lot of ways, and the fact that the Russian had played a major part (no matter what he said) in inventing the toy that would make his plan possible was the last bit of information that Jim needed. Chekov had undoubtedly developed his plan within minutes of Kirk's first description of the problem, but hadn't said anything…why?

The only answer that made sense—aside from wanting Jim to buy him a couple of meals, which didn't seem likely as his sole reason—was that he enjoyed Kirk's company. So, given the unmistakable thread of attraction and innuendo they had been passing back and forth for the last two days, that meant…something Jim Kirk wasn't sure he understood, or even wanted to. Had Chekov been a 'typical' Jim Kirk date—female, 'animated' (that always sounded better than 'horny') and accommodating—they would have wound up having sex the night before, and probably tonight as well. Then, depending on how things went, the relationship might last all of another two weeks or so, before he and she reached the mutual decision to 'move on'.

What he had with Pavel Chekov—what was growing between him and the very attractive young man—was something that he didn't know how to describe, or deal with, or fit into his usual modus operandi. And, because it didn't, he was a little bit anxious about it. Not much, to be sure, because it was too good thus far to really worry about, but a little bit.

He put it down to that anxiety when he ordered enough for two complete meals, and four pieces of chocolate cake, which he knew that Pavel would love.

After all…is it ever possible to have too much chocolate cake?

***

Pavel was just finishing up with a final series of diagnostics on his modified high volume data transmitter when Kirk returned, his arms full of goodies.

"_Bozhe moi!_ Who else are you bringing, with so much food?" Pavel laughed at the sight.

Jim smiled and shrugged. "Nobody. But, you said that you wanted me to feed you in return for your help, so I'm feeding you."

Pavel shook his head, amused. "Was not necessary to do so much, Jim."

"So? We'll have a snack waiting for us when we get back later tonight. Besides, I got chocolate cake," he said, pulling out a piece but deliberately holding it out of Pavel's reach.

"Oh, well, in that case, I hope is no one else coming to eat my cake."

"Your cake, Mr. Chekov? Who said this cake was for you?"

"You want to beat no-win scenario, _da_?"

"I brought four pieces, all for you."

***

Despite his earlier confidence, Pavel was more than a little nervous as they entered the building where the simulator was housed.

"Jim, I am not sure was wise, to come so close to curfew," he said, looking around.

"Just don't look nervous, act like you're supposed to be here, and let me do the talking if anyone stops us, okay?" Jim reassured. "You've got clearance to be here during normal hours, don't you?"

"_Da_, but this is not normal hours." Pavel had told Jim (who had been quietly impressed) that his advanced academic standing came with a number of special perks and privileges. One of those was access to more powerful computers than most cadets ever saw, and the simulator room was located right next to the Academy's biggest computer cores. This actually was the most logical placement for it, Pavel had explained, since the simulator's computers were among the most sophisticated on the campus. Kirk wasn't sure he would have believed that from anyone else—after all, a good comp terminal could run most of the scenarios he'd seen in the simulator—but Pavel insisted that the level of realism the simulators generated required a truly awe-inspiring amount of processing power.

"True, but we'll be fine. Remember, you're here doing some late night work, and I'm here to make sure you get back to your room okay," Jim gave Pavel a smile that he hoped would inspire confidence.

Whatever Jim intended, Pavel blushed at the statement. "Would you really do that, if we were not doing…what we are doing?" he asked, not meeting Jim's eyes.

"Sure," Jim answered easily, purposefully not thinking about what he was being asked.

Pavel didn't say anything, but his glance told Jim that he wasn't buying Jim's line. Well, Jim wasn't sure he was buying his line, either, but they were on a mission and couldn't afford to be distracted.

"Here's the door," he said, stepping up to the door marked "Authorized Personnel Only—Admittance Only With Passcard". Jim had memorized the layout of the building, and stepped up to the small terminal on the door. Pulling out a passcard (obtained from a very dubious source, at no small expense and difficulty during his second year and used to great effect on several occasions) Jim used the forged card and smiled as the door opened with a 'sch-woosh'.

Pavel's eyes went wide at Jim's act. He had been expecting to have to use his passcard, or perhaps bypass the terminal to unlock the door, but Jim had just smiled and said 'I've got it taken care of". Now, seeing how Kirk went about opening the door, he froze, making Jim grab him and pull him into the room before the door closed behind them.

"Jim…that card! Where did you…?" he began to ask, but was stopped by a finger on his lips.

"Shh! Don't ask me questions that you don't want me to answer, Pavel. Right now, the door thinks that Maintenance is in here, and the record will show that they left when we do. I didn't want you to use your card, and this seemed like the best way. Trust me, this little baby never fails," he smiled, waving the card. "Now, put your little toy where it needs to be, and let's get out of here."

Nodding, Pavel put the issue of the card out of his mind and moved to his task. It was a matter of moments for him to find and remove the proper access panel, and installing his transmitter in a concealed location took only a minute. Not coincidentally, the device looked very much like a standard duotronic relay, and only a careful component by component examination of the system would be likely to find it. Of course, Pavel and Jim had talked about coming back at a later date to retrieve it, but Pavel also believed—with typical Russian fatalism—that the device would be found if he did not take extra care. Since the consequences of having the device found prematurely would be…bad…well, best to take a moment and be certain.

Finally satisfied, Pavel snapped the panel back into place, turned and nodded that he was ready to go. Nodding back, Kirk used his passcard once again, and the pair slipped out of the simulator computer room.

They were almost out of the building when they heard footsteps approaching them from around a corner. Without thinking, Jim swung Pavel into a recessed doorway, putting the younger man's back into the slight corner and moving up to shield him with his own body. Then, he leaned down and captured Pavel's lips with his own just before the figure of an Academy Security guard came around the corner.

Pavel initially froze in shock as Jim Kirk kissed him. Then, his lips began to move of their own accord, responding to the pressure of Jim's mouth by first pulsing, then opening to him. Jim, feeling Pavel's mouth open and his lithe body relax against him, teased the opened mouth before accepting the tacit invitation and thrusting his tongue deep inside. When he did, Pavel made a sound that was part-moan, part-whimper, and clutched his hands at Kirk's chest. The kiss rapidly deepened as both men found themselves drawn into the other's embrace….

…when Pavel felt Jim rudely pulled back from him, making him squeak in irritation.

"Okay, you two," the guard said. "It's right at curfew, and you two need to be doing that somewhere else," he said easily.

"Sorry, officer, it's just…" Kirk began, only to be cut off.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I was here working on project, and lost track of time. My friend," Pavel said, straightening his tunic and standing to his full height as he nodded at Jim, "was worried, and came to fetch me." He smiled winningly, and blushed a bit. "He worries too much, I think. I am authorized to be here," he finished, making to pull out his identification.

The guard waved his hand, recognizing the face of the young man, if not knowing his name. He'd seen that face around the building any number of times, at all hours, often in the company of much more senior personnel.

"All right, I've seen you around, and you're friend's right. You two need to be getting on, though. If you run, you might still make curfew," he said, stepping back.

"Thank you, sir," Pavel nodded, while Jim mumbled something, nodded, and let Pavel pull him away. "Come, we should hurry, as man says," Chekov said, as they hurried away.

Neither of them said anything until they were out of the building, then Jim started chuckling. "So, now that I've 'fetched you', I think that I should take you back to your room."

Pavel blushed furiously. "I am capable of finding own way, Mr, Kirk," he said stiffly. "And testing of device is not something you are capable of helping with," he finished.

Jim cocked his head, puzzled at the sudden cooling of Pavel's demeanor. "Pavel, I'm sorry about that, back there. I didn't think you'd mind, and it was the best thing that I could think of to explain why we might be out a little late."

"I see," Chekov said quietly. "No, I realize what you were attempting, and it obviously was successful. Still, I must be going." Turning, he moved away, leaving Jim standing there dumfounded.

He had only gone a few meters before Jim shook himself and took a few running steps to catch up. "Pavel, wait…I didn't mean to offend you…please, Pavel? Let me see you back? I won't do it again, I promise," he finished, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

Chekov just looked at him, then nodded. The two made their way silently back to Pavel's room, where Pavel opened the door and stepped in. Turning, he just stood there, not moving or saying anything, his face carefully neutral.

Jim Kirk looked into those hazel eyes that so often danced with light and laughter. Now, he only saw confusion, hurt and uncertainty, and it tore at him. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and asked, "Pavel, may I come in?"

When the curly-haired man nodded, Kirk stepped through the door, which closed behind him automatically. He stood there, almost as close to Pavel as they had been in the doorway, neither of them doing anything more than look into the other's eyes. Then, ever so slowly, Jim reached up and gently ran the backs of his fingers over Pavel's cheek. The slight motion of Chekov's head, pressing his face into the caress, was all of the encouragement that Kirk needed to step forward and press their lips together once again.

This time, Pavel moaned outright as his mouth opened to admit Jim's tongue. Jim felt two slim arms encircle his neck as he wrapped his own arms around the slender frame of the shorter man. As each struggled to pull the other closer, their bodies began to grind together.

Suddenly, the pair found themselves falling back onto Pavel's narrow bed, where they quickly shifted into a comfortable position, Pavel's smaller body lying stretched out on Jim, Pavel's hands combing through Jim's hair while Jim's hands roamed all over Pavel's taught body. Their kisses continued as each tasted the other, tongues dueling first in one mouth then the other. After a time, Pavel shifted just enough so that his erection managed to rub against Jim's; their uniform pants providing a double barrier between them. As their passions increased, the two began to thrust against each other more strongly and frantically, until finally Jim broke free of Pavel's mouth to gasp out "too many clothes…."

A flurry of motion and flying garments later, two naked bodies resumed their previous position, only this time Jim found himself on top of the smaller man. Looking down, he was about to resume ravaging Pavel's swollen lips, but stopped when he saw the young man pause.

"Pavel, what is it? Are you okay with this?" he found himself asking gently.

Pavel nodded, then looked away. "Yes, Jim, oh yes…it is only…." He paused, then looked back up fearlessly. "I am not sure just what I must do. You must be teacher to me, _da_?"

Kirk froze as those words penetrated the fog of his lust. The younger man was a virgin! Sweet mercy, he'd know the boy couldn't be terribly experienced, but this? A ripple of some nameless emotion passed over him, and he felt himself soften, just a bit.

"Pavel, I never realized…I don't want to do anything that you're not okay with. We can just lie here, if you want." Even as he said that, Jim Kirk realized that he truly meant those words, for probably the first time in his life.

"I…I would like to do that, for a few minutes, right now. Then, later," Pavel smiled and blushed in that way he had that was rapidly becoming a favorite of Jim Kirk's. "Later, I want you to show me…."

"What, Pavel? I'll do whatever you want me to do."

"Show me everything."

***

Much later, Jim Kirk drifted awake in a strange bed, a warm, firm body pressed against his front. His morning erection was nestled comfortably in a cleft that fit it like the two parts had been machined to microscopic tolerances, and his nose was pressed into a clump of messily curly hair. His arms were wrapped around and enfolding his bedmate, and he felt another set of fingers entwined with his, holding him in turn.

Breathing in the scent of his new lover, he realized that he was satisfied, rested, relaxed, and replete…not to mention completely unwilling to move for any reason whatsoever.

Unfortunately, the universe was not in a kind mood. Just as Kirk was drifting back into sleep, the body in his arms stirred and gave a small yelp before struggling to leave the bed.

"_Bozhe moi!_ I will be late!" a panicky voice said, as Pavel struggled to disentangle himself from Jim's embrace.

Kirk made a sound of discontent, then released his hold. "What time is it?" he asked sleepily.

"Nearly seven…and I have early seminar!" Pavel said, sitting up hurriedly.

"So? What's your hurry? First class isn't until eight, and we've got leftovers to eat for breakfast," Jim said, rising up on one elbow. "Besides, we can share the shower, can't we?" he grinned and waggled his eyebrows.

Pavel looked back over his shoulder and blushed, again. Jim's smile widened at that…he would have thought that after the previous night Pavel wouldn't have anything left to blush about where he was concerned, but maybe it was just a reflex with his lover.

"Share the shower?" Pavel asked, momentarily confused. Then, his eyes widened and he grinned shyly. "That would be very nice…but may make us late," he demurred.

"Mr. Chekov, that's the best reason I've ever heard to hurry up and get out of bed," Jim said, doing just that.

Oddly enough, both of them made it to their first class on time…but it was a near thing.

***

Two days later, Jim Kirk leaned over Pavel Chekov's chair, his breath teasing at the younger man's ear.

"Still no joy?" he asked softly, before beginning to nibble gently on the shell of that ear.

Pavel jerked back, swatting at his lover. "Stop, is tickling. No, has been no use of no-win program since transmitter was placed." He sighed, disappointed. "Until simulator is used for program, I can not analyze to begin knowing how to adjust parameters."

Jim let himself be pushed back from Pavel's ear, then sat down on the bed, thinking. "It's not that common a scenario, actually. Everybody gets it once, and that's it. Nobody's ever asked for another try." He grinned savagely. "Except for me, that is."

"Without being able to see program, am not certain I can change it," Pavel shook his head. "I do not want you thinking I can do more than I can, but…" he shrugged in a magnificently Slavic gesture.

"There's no limit to the number of times you can request the scenario, is there?" Jim asked thoughtfully.

"Not that I am aware of," Pavel answered carefully. "Are you thinking…?"

"That if I ran through the scenario in the next few days, you could get the data you need…and then I could do it again, to beat it!"

"That would be possible, I suppose," Pavel said.

"Well, that's it, then! I can probably schedule it for the day after tomorrow, or the day after that!" Jim bounced on the bed in excitement. "Problem solved!"

"Problem maybe solved," Pavel corrected gravely. "Is still not certain I can change program using remote data transmitter. Program may be too complex for me to understand, or critical data may not be routed to transmitter, or…" he broke of suddenly, squealing as Jim's fingers danced across his ribs.

"Pavel Andreievich, you worry too much…but it's one of the reasons I love you," Jim said, pulling the wriggling young man into his lap.

"I am Russian, worry…umph," he began, only to be cut off by Jim's lips sealing his in a kiss.

After that, neither of them worried about anything for quite some time.

***

Leonard "Bones" McCoy and James T. Kirk walked down the steps of Starfleet Academy into the bright San Francisco sun.

"Why are you so happy?" McCoy asked his friend.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kirk replied, smiling.

"No, I don't suppose you do," McCoy huffed as Kirk turned to call out "Hello, ladies" and visually grope a pair of red-clad cadets going up the Academy steps.

Without missing a beat, Kirk turned back to McCoy. "I'm taking the test again."

McCoy couldn't believe his ears. "You've got to be kidding!" he burst out.

"Yeah, tomorrow morning, and I want you there," Kirk said, ignoring the disbelief in McCoy's voice.

"Ah…you know, I've got better things to do than watch you embarrass yourself for a third time," McCoy said firmly. "I'm a doctor, Jim, I'm busy."

Kirk faced his friend directly. "Bones, it doesn't bother you that no one's ever passed the test?" he asked earnestly.

"Jim, it's the Kobayashi Maru! No one passes the test, and no one goes back for seconds, let alone thirds." McCoy said insistently.

Jim Kirk just smiled. "I gotta study," he said, then jogged away.

"Study my ass," Bones McCoy snorted, knowing that his friend couldn't hear him…and probably wouldn't care if he did.

***

Jim felt a momentary pang of guilt as he left McCoy. Both of the women they had passed had been former 'friends' of his, and without thinking he'd fallen back into his usual pattern of behavior. Not that his usual pattern was that _un_usual, but the guilt that he felt certainly was. The sensation was so strange that he paused to think about it more carefully. He'd been specifically avoiding any deep introspection for the last few days, especially where a certain young doe-eyed Russian was concerned, but it looked like he'd have to face facts sooner or later.

He, James Tiberius Kirk, was rapidly falling in love with Pavel Chekov.

What had started out as a meeting for the sole purpose of convincing the young genius to help him beat the 'no-win' scenario had rapidly turned into something much, much more, and Jim was not certain how he was going to handle it. Oh, he didn't object to the feelings he had for the young man, much less what he felt when they were together. No, what was starting to bother Jim was how he was going to cope with the breakup that must inevitably come. Surely neither of them had any illusions of anything more than a brief fling…did they? They were both in Starfleet, and the odds of being assigned to the same ship or station were vanishingly small. Then, Starfleet tended to frown on its Captains marrying, and one thing that Jim Kirk knew he wanted to be was a Captain, with his own command. And Pavel…what did Pavel Chekov want, both from Jim Kirk, and from Starfleet? Jim knew Pavel well enough that the young man felt pressure from his family's desire for him to stay on Earth, which would almost certainly involve resigning his commission. Still, Pavel wanted to go to the stars, which meant Starfleet, or some other Federation posting—the merchant service wasn't even a consideration, as Pavel would be totally wasted there, Jim knew—neither of which was exactly relationship-friendly. Oh, there were exceptions—his own father, for one—but they tended to be the very things that proved the rule: officers don't marry, or even cultivate long-term relationships. It wasn't written down, but it was certainly there…and they both knew it. So, since they were both about to graduate, they would say their goodbyes and go their separate ways.

And Jim Kirk didn't know that he was going to be okay with that.

His feeling of…whatever it was…only intensified when he strode into 'their' restaurant and saw Pavel sitting at a booth in the back, his full attention focused on a data pad. Pushing the feeling down, he set a smile on his face and went to greet his lover, who looked up as he approached.

"Jim!" Pavel exclaimed, his eyes dancing. "Sit, sit! Is wonderful, data feed is perfect! Program is complicated but basic parameters are simple, simple! I can do anything, anything at all to program…enemies attacking enemies, enemies fall apart at first shot, anything!"

Jim felt his enthusiasm life his own spirits as he greeted the younger man with a kiss. "That's great, but do we really want everybody in San Francisco to know it?" he joked.

Pavel shook his head, blushing. "No, of course not. Still, you need to know how well data tap is working…and tell me when you will take test again."

Jim grinned. "I signed up for my third attempt tomorrow morning, at nine. I know you're off tomorrow morning, so that shouldn't be a problem, right?"

Pavel shrugged. "Is no problem. Two hours tonight to make basic adjustments...you will help me with those, of course…and _pfft!_ Done! I will no longer matter," he grinned, not realizing what he had just said.

Suddenly serious, Jim leaned forward and took both of Pavel's hands in his own. "Pavel, you will _always_ matter to me. You know that, don't you?"

A look of confusion swept across Pavel's face. "Of course, I know this. But…oh, I see," he said, comprehension dawning, making his tone sober. "Yes, I see. Well, I am glad that we will still be friends after tomorrow, then. Still, I will need you to help me for an hour, perhaps two this afternoon, then you can go."

"Wha..? What are you..?" Now it was Jim's turn to be confused. Then, understanding dawned. "No, Pavel, no! I'm not breaking up with you! I just meant that you'll matter to me regardless of the test, understand? No, please don't think…" he stopped, shaking his head.

"Jim, is fine." When Pavel spoke, it was soft, husky. "I know why you came to me, and now that reason is about to be no more. So, is logical that you will, as they say, 'move on'. Is what you have done so many times before, da?"

"_Nyet_, you stubborn little Russian, _nyet_, dammit! Well, yes, it's what I've done before—and just where the hell did you hear that?—but no, that's not what I'm saying now," Jim hissed.

Pavel gave another one of his Slavic shrugs. "Your reputation, Mr. Kirk, is well known…and now I am 'notch on bedpost', as well. Still, I am well repaid for my assistance, and do not want to cause unnecessary grief."

Jim clenched his jaw, then stood abruptly, pulling Pavel up with him as he left the shop. They were a good fifty feet from the shop before Pavel managed to slow the fuming Kirk to a halt. Rounding on the smaller man, Jim growled and moved into Pavel's personal space.

"Now, listen here, mister! I am not breaking up with you, make no mistake! When I break it off with you, you'll know it! Now, I'm going to take you back to your room, to that too-small bed of yours, and spend the next few hours proving to you that we're not breaking up. Then, I'm going to give you whatever help I can on our little project. Then, I'm going to take you back to bed and spend the rest of the night showing you just how not breaking up we are! Any questions?" he demanded.

Pavel just looked at him for a moment before a smile broke out on that elfin face. "So…after the test tomorrow, we will still be…boyfriends?" he asked carefully. Neither of them had used that particular word yet, and his voice was skittish and unsure.

"No, mister…we're boyfriends _and_ lovers," Jim growled once more, then pulled Pavel to him in a bone-crushing embrace. "And you just wait until we're alone," Jim whispered into Pavel's ear. "It's a good thing that you're off tomorrow morning, because I intend to see to it that you can't walk for at least a day, maybe more."

"Eep," was all that Pavel had to say, before he broke free of Jim's arms and began pulling the older man towards his room.

***

It hadn't turned out quite that way.

Pavel had only allowed Jim a few thoroughly delightful minutes of kissing, petting, nibbling, rubbing and squeezing before he pulled away, giggling. Planning the reprogramming of the Kobayashi Maru scenario had taken longer than it should have, probably because Jim kept distracting Pavel by nibbling at his ears and the nape of his neck, rather than letting the boy work. Finally, exasperated, Pavel had banished Kirk from his room with strict instructions not to come back for at least three hours…and to bring dinner for two, with chocolate, or not come back at all!

Jim left the small room and was headed back to his own room for an overnight bag—he fully intended to spend another night in Pavel's arms before he retook the no-win test—when he bumped into a curvaceous green form coming around a corner.

"Oh, excuse me," he said, even before he recognized the face as belonging to—oh, what was here name—Gaila, yeah, "Gaila! I'm so sorry."

"Oh, hey, Jim. I'm the one who should be apologizing, it was my fault." The curly haired Orion woman's eyes narrowed as she looked at Kirk carefully. "Say, I'm sorry I never called you after that party, but I was with this guy, and we wound up in a hot tub at a friend's place across the Bay, and I kind of lost your number."

"Oh, that's okay, things like that happen," Jim said, thinking back. He dimly remembered being at a party several months back, and trying to hit on the green woman…until he saw her date for the evening, that is…but after that he had completely forgotten about her. "So, how did things work out with…Evan, wasn't it?"

"Ethan, and, you know, he's old news. Say, what are you doing this evening?" Gaila looked at him like a starving dog looking at a steak.

Jim stepped back, and took a deep breath to tell her that he was sorry, but he had other plans…and then it hit him.

Like most men, Jim knew about the pheromones that Orion women could secrete, and the effects they were reported to have on the males of most species. However, knowing about them, and experiencing them first hand were two entirely different things. Before he knew it, Jim had reached out to take Gaila's hand and was allowing her to lead him down the corridor, away from the direction he had wanted to go. His pulse racing and an erection rapidly growing in his pants, Jim let the exotically beautiful creature—the most beautiful woman in the entire universe—lead him away.

In the back of his mind, a tiny part of Jim Kirk was screaming in rage and pain, calling out to a certain young Russian with hazel eyes. Unfortunately, that part was soon drowned in a flood of Orion pheromonal mind control.

***

Almost an hour later, Jim Kirk came back to himself walking down a corridor in his briefs, carrying his shoes and clothes. Frantically pulling on his pants, he kept shaking his head, trying to clear it of the last bit of fogginess left behind from his aborted tryst with the Orion. As his mind cleared, he began to recall everything he had just felt and done, and he leaned against the wall and moaned. He realized that he now owed the elegant black woman—Uhura, that was her last name—a huge favor. By coming in when she had, she'd interrupted Gaila before she and Jim had done anything more than some kissing and frottage…thankfully. While he still didn't know Uhura's first name, he resolved to look for her as soon as he possibly could after the test tomorrow, so that he could thank her personally. But now….

"Pavel," he moaned again, then checked the time. Mercifully, he still had plenty of time before his lover expected him back.

One quick shower (to wash away the lingering remains of Orion female) and change later, followed by a mad dash to a local deli for two dinners, dessert and a bottle of chocolate sauce (Jim had definite plans for that!), and he was back knocking at Pavel's door once again.

The door had obviously been programmed to let him in, because it slid open right before he knocked. The sight that greeted him made him want to forget the food (even the chocolate sauce), and the near-escape he'd just had at the hands of the rapacious Orion.

Stretched out on his bed asleep was his young boyfriend and lover, curled around a pillow the same we he curled around Jim's arms.

Jim Kirk felt himself melting inside as he stood there, just watching Pavel sleep for several long moments. Then, quietly setting down the food he pulled off his shoes and, still fully clothed like the room's occupant, slipped into the bed. A bit of gentle tugging pulled the pillow free, allowing Jim to put his arms around the smaller man and draw him close. Of course, this roused Pavel, who muttered sleepily.

"Mmm, Jim…I just wanted a quick nap…."

"Shush, now. I need a nap, too."

"But, I finish program, need to show to you…"

"Shhh, not now. Nap first, then show."

"Mmmm," Pavel murmured, pulling Jim's arms closer around him and snuggling back.

Jim felt his erection, still a bit under the influence of Gaila's pheromones, stir and begin to swell as Pavel's buttocks pressed into him. Then, Pavel rolled his head to the side just enough to blow a closed-eyes kiss to Jim before turning back and sighing deeply. Immediately, Jim felt the surge of lust recede as another, warmer feeling swelled up from somewhere inside him. Content and happy, Jim joined his lover in sighing, then promptly dropped off to sleep.

Fortunately, the sandwiches were tightly sealed, and would remain fresh for several hours, at need.

***

The strikingly beautiful lieutenant turned in her chair.

"We're receiving a distress signal from the USS Kobayashi Maru. The ship has lost power and is stranded. Starfleet Command has ordered us to rescue them," she said. Her tone was light, almost mocking. Of course, she knew that the cocky young man in the simulator's center seat had an ego the size of Jupiter, but they also had a bit of history together…and she wasn't terribly happy about having to waste her time watching Jim Kirk humiliate himself for the third time in the no-win scenario.

Jim Kirk smiled and turned in his chair to face the forward viewscreen. Oh, this was going to be fun. "Starfleet Command has ordered us to rescue them," he repeated, then paused for effect before adding "Captain." Well, he _was_ the Captain…at least for now, here in the simulator. And, the rules of the game were that the crew had to respond to him—and his orders—as if the rank and the situation were real. Of course, he noticed McCoy rolling his eyes as he turned back to his station, but what the hell, he was the Captain!

McCoy saw his board light up as the simulation began in earnest. "Two Klingon vessels have entered the Neutral Zone and are locking weapons on us," he reported. Of course, everyone knew what was coming so some of the effect was lost, but still he didn't expect Kirk's response.

"That's okay," Jim Kirk relaxed in the captain's chair, a smile playing on his lips.

McCoy turned to look back at his friend, incredulous. "That's okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, don't worry about it," Jim answered calmly. Above them, a wave of consternation swept the observing officers and instructors. "Did he say not to worry about it? Is he not taking the simulation seriously?" one instructor wondered aloud. Kirk had insisted—almost demanded—this chance to repeat the scenario, which was unheard of in and of itself. Now, to be so casually dismissive of the scenario's threat…it didn't seem logical.

Meanwhile, in the simulator, the no-win scenario continued to play itself out.

"Three more Klingon warbirds decloaking and targeting our ship," McCoy reported. "I don't suppose this is a problem, either?" he asked over his shoulder.

The lieutenant manning the tactical station spoke up. "They're firing, Captain," he reported.

Ignoring the tactical officer's report, Kirk spoke to Uhuru over his shoulder, his hand raised for emphasis. "Alert medical bay to prepare to receive all crew members from the damaged ship."

Uhura barely contained her temper, but her contempt for the idiot in the command chair was obvious in her voice. "And how do you expect us to rescue them when we're surrounded by Klingons? Captain," she added deliberately.

Kirk just looked at her and spoke plainly, like he might address a child. "Alert medical," he repeated, then smiled. Fuming, Uhura turned to carry out the order.

"Our ship's being hit, shields are at sixty per cent," McCoy reported. On the viewscreen, Klingon D7s wheeled and flew by, disruptors firing as they passed.

Ignoring the firing alien ships, Kirk was looking for something in the arm of his chair. "I understand," he acknowledged McCoy's report, finding the apple he was looking for at last.

McCoy turned once more, questioning. "Should we, I don't know, fire back?"

Unconcerned, Kirk regarded his snack. "No," was his only answer, before taking a bite from the crisp red fruit.

"'course not," McCoy said, mostly to himself, turning back to his board and shaking his head. Why he had agreed to waste his time like this, he had no idea….

Then, suddenly, everything changed. All over the simulator, screens fuzzed out, lights flickered, and there was a definite sound of power systems going down. Then, just as suddenly, an ascending whine announced that power was returning as first the lights, then the screens stabilized. All over the simulator, heads turned in confusion as one of Starfleet's most sophisticated pieces of training equipment stuttered, then reset itself.

In the center seat, only Jim Kirk didn't appear surprised. "Hmm," he said. "Arm photons, prepare to fire on the Klingon warbirds."

At tactical, his order was immediately acknowledged with a crisp "Yes, sir."

"Jim, their shields are still up," McCoy said urgently.

"Are they?" Kirk asked, taking another bite.

Turning back to his board, McCoy checked the enemy's status again before answering, "No, they're not."

"Fire on all enemy ships," Kirk ordered. He was obviously enjoying himself. "One photon each should do it…let's not waste ammunition."

The tactical officer smiled as he complied. "Target locked and acquired on all warbirds…firing!"

On the screen, simulated photon torpedoes shot out to unerringly strike their targets. As each cruiser was hit it exploded, bulbous forward sections breaking off in a dazzling display of pyrotechnics from the wing-like aft hulls. In his chair, Kirk watched the enemy ships die, pointing his finger at the screen like a gun and firing with his thumb as each disintegrated.

As the last Klingon died, Kirk gave his last formal order. "Begin rescue of the stranded crew," he said briskly, then stood. "So….we've managed to eliminate all enemy ships," he said, noting that Uhura was shaking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose in disbelief and annoyance. "No one on board was injured, and" he said, clapping McCoy on the shoulder as he strolled past, "the successful rescue of the Kobayashi Maru crew is under way." He stood there, obviously pleased with himself, eating his apple and smiling what might be called a shite-eating grin.

**A/N:** so, now you know what REALLY happened when Jim Kirk beat the Kobayashi Maru scenario. Satisfied?

**Next Chapter:** Success! And, the consequences of success may be too horrible to contemplate. The Commandant is not amused. Can Jim 'pull a Kirk' and get himself and Pavel off the hook? And, if he can, then what?


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **The consequences of beating the no-win scenario play out. Jim Kirk is a horrible boyfriend, and Pavel knows just how to punish him. Then, the happy ending. Yep, it's still SLASH, don't like, shouldn't be reading it.

**Disclaimer:** nope, still don't own the franchise or characters, still not making anything, just writing it the way it should have happened….

"I was never that young."—_Captain Pavel Chekov, in Star Trek: Generations_

**CHAPTER 3**

The post-simulation briefing was, not surprisingly, very well attended.

Every instructor, supervisor and technician who had been in the control room was there, as was almost every cadet who had been in the simulator 'crew'. At the head of the room, Captain Delatorre stood behind the podium as the last seats filled and the room became 'standing only'…and still more people kept coming in.

When the walls had been covered with bodies and the ranks were beginning to be two deep in the back, the Captain ordered the doors closed.

"Well, Mr. Kirk, that was an interesting outcome for this simulation. Care to comment?"

Jim Kirk sat in the 'hot seat'—the briefing chair to the left of the podium—his coprophagic smile still firmly in place. "About what, sir?" he asked cheekily, causing a ripple of snickers to go around the room.

"About your simulation performance," Delatorre said calmly. Veteran of years at the Academy and hundreds of cadets, it would take more than Jim Kirk to rattle him. "Overall, what grade would you give yourself?"

"Overall?" Kirk asked, the considered the question for a second before replying "A". Still smiling, he sat back, looking for all the world like he had just swallowed the canary.

Well, we'll see, Delatorre thought. "Explain," the Captain said, with just a touch of edge to his voice.

"As I said at the end of the simulation, we rescued the crew of the Maru without a single injury to our own crew…and destroyed all of the ambushers. I'd say we did a pretty good job, too," he smirked, while several people worked hard to stifle their laughter.

"And how do you explain the abrupt loss of power in the simulator, right before your amazing victory?" Delatorre asked carefully.

"Power fluctuations happen, even in Starfleet," Kirk said smugly. Not a lie, but probably not even remotely connected to what had happened, either; it was a perfectly true statement that didn't say anything at all.

"True, Mr. Kirk, true. Still, I find it rather interesting that you appeared to have some prior knowledge that it was going to occur. Based on your behavior earlier in the simulation, that is," the Captain prodded.

"Prior knowledge of a power fluctuation? Hardly, sir," Kirk answered, once again answering with a phrase that was probably not a lie, but not an answer, either.

"I see. Well, Cadet Kirk, at this time I have no more questions for you. However, given that no one else has ever performed as well on this particular scenario as you just did, I should inform you that the system will be put through a through series of diagnostic tests to determine if some…system flaw contributed to your success today."

"Or maybe it's just that I'm that good," Kirk added, as people began to file out.

"I'm sure it's something like that, Mr. Kirk," was all that the Captain had to say.

***

Leonard McCoy was waiting outside of the debriefing room when Jim Kirk came out.

"Jim, you damn fool! What the hell did you do?" the medical cadet hissed, grabbing his friend by the arm and pulling him away from the crowd.

"Not here, Bones, not here…besides, who says I did anything?" Jim smirked, trying and failing to look innocent.

"Now see here, Jim, I know you too well…and I've seen that scenario trash the simulator too many times to believe that hogwash about 'power fluctuations'. You knew something was going to happen, didn't you?" he accused.

"Maybe," Kirk said, with a sly glance. "But I'll never admit to anything, Bones, you know that."

"I know that when they find out how you reprogrammed the simulator they'll throw you out of here so fast you'll skid all the way back to Iowa," McCoy ground out.

"Relax, Bones, _I_ didn't reprogram the simulator…and I don't think they'll find anything unless they take the simulator apart piece by piece."

Leonard McCoy had heard enough patients lie to him over the years to immediately pick up on the subtle emphasis in his friend's statement. "So, Jim…if you didn't reprogram it, who did?"

"Bones, Bones, Bones…you don't trust me?" Kirk asked, trying for 'wounded' and 'mildly insulted'. He failed.

Bones McCoy just snorted. "Not for one damned minute, no…not about this. But, I also know that you're not good enough to have done it yourself."

"True, unfortunately…or in this case, fortunately, for me," Kirk's smile was back. Then, noting that the pair was safely away from any prying ears, he turned to McCoy and whispered softly, "Ever hear of a young Russian named Chekov?"

McCoy froze in place. "Jim! You didn't! Not _Pavel_ Chekov?" he whispered back.

"Yeah, Pavel…sweet kid, I need to introduce you two. Bones, you wouldn't believe how great he is…" Jim began.

McCoy cut him off abruptly. "Jim, I realize that you're clueless about a lot of things, but you're trying to tell me that in the three years we've been here you haven't heard about Pavel Chekov? Or, what happens to people who mess with him?"

Jim shook his head, confused. "No…and why would people bother Pavel? I mean, he's practically the 'innocent angel' poster child! I can't see him getting on anybody's bad side. Just the opposite, in fact."

"That's just it, Jim. That boy came here when he was only thirteen, and he's been here ever since. At least half the females—and a fair number of the males—here at the Academy have effectively adopted him as a baby brother, or something." He sighed, then went on. "Remember that case I told you about, where the guy had to have both kneecaps and a testicle regrown?"

"Yeah, I think so…something about a freak accident, where he fell down two flights of stairs, or something?"

"Or something. Jim, that guy made the mistake of pushing Pavel Chekov down a flight of stairs, which broke his collar bone and his left arm in two places. Two days later, a group of cadets—including an Andorean and two Rigellians, who declared it a 'matter of clan honor', along with a whole gang of humans—'arranged' for him to 'fall down' those same stairs—twice. The 'tripped and fell down' version was just the cover story, since nobody would come forward or turn anybody in, and the guy claimed that he was taken from behind." McCoy just shook his head. "I think he knew that worse things would happen to him if he didn't keep his mouth shut. Still, he apologized to Pavel…and your boy charmed the idiot so much that he was Chekov's unofficial bodyguard for the rest of the year."

Kirk had been on the verge of loosing his temper as his friend described his lover's injuries, so it was probably a good thing the incident was long in the past. Then, when he heard how the story ended, he couldn't help but smile. "That's him, all right. Charming enough to win anybody over," he said, a fond look spreading across his face.

"Yeah, that's him, all right. And now, you've gone and involved him in what could be the biggest cheating scandal in years? Oh, Jimmy boy, you've really gone and stuck it in the grinder this time."

"Now, Bones…"

"Don't you 'now, Bones,' me! Dammit, Jim! Why in the bloody blue blazes were you so caught up in trying to beat that thing? It's a no-win program, set up to be that way. You know as well as I do that the computer can always pull another dozen Klingons out of its electronic arse, so why even bother?" The doctor just shook his head, still unwilling or unable to believe what his friend had just done.

Jim just smiled and clapped him on the shoulder before he walked off. "Bones, I don't believe in the no-win scenario."

***

Jim had just stepped through the door into Pavel's room when he found himself with an armful of giddy Russian.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Chekov kept repeating, in between laughing and kissing the older cadet furiously. "I was watching on my terminal, and saw everything! Was perfect! No, beyond perfect! Now, no one can say they have never had person beat no-win scenario!"

"Easy, Pavel, easy," Jim laughed, gently disentangling himself from the hyperactive boy. "Yes, it did exactly what you said it would do, and yes, the instructors are well and truly steamed about it. Now, when do you think we'll be able to go retrieve your little toy?"

Pavel sobered considerably. "Not for some time, I think. But, data transmitter looks like regular system component, and should be invisible to regular diagnostics, so we have few worries there. How did simulator Captain react?"

"About like I though he would. He's royally pissed, and said something about an investigation, so I expect I'll be called before the Commandant tomorrow or the next day." Jim shrugged. He expected a dressing down, at the very least, but it had been worth it just to see the expression on their faces. And, he was actually looking forward to being able to argue against even having such a test in the first place, for the same reason Bones McCoy had given him.

"I will worry about that, then," Pavel was saying, becoming almost glum.

"No, no, no, no…that will never do, Pavel Andreievich! Now, put on your shoes! You're coming with me, and we're going out to celebrate!"

***

It was several minutes past curfew when the pair returned to the dormitory. Kirk had the whole day off, and had cajoled Chekov into ditching his classes so that the two of them could spend the entire rest of the day away from the Academy. For Pavel, it was a wonderful experience, as he had rarely been very far from the grounds. When he heard this, Jim immediately rented a ground car, and the two had driven north over the Golden Gate, through Marin County and towards the Sonoma wine country. After a day of sightseeing, they returned to the City for dinner and an evening of strolling around San Francisco on foot. When they finally returned, both were pleasantly exhausted and more than content to lean on each other as they walked.

They did not expect the Security Detachment that was waiting for them at the dormitory entrance.

Shortly thereafter, Kirk found himself sitting outside the Academy Commandant's office for what seemed like hours, while Pavel was being 'interviewed' by Admiral Izikawa, Commandant of Starfleet Academy, himself. Finally, a pale, shaken Pavel Chekov was escorted out of the office, and Kirk was briskly ordered inside. Behind him, he saw Pavel sinking slowly into the chair he had just vacated, before the door shut firmly behind him.

In addition to Commandant Izikawa sitting behind his massive desk, Captain Delatorre sat off to one side. Motioning Kirk to a seat, the Security guard took up a position of parade rest just inside the door.

Commandant Izikawa said nothing for several long moments, choosing instead to sit quietly, looking at the cadet across from him. Finally, he spoke.

"Well, Mr., Kirk, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"Regarding what, sir? If I may ask?" Jim kept his tone light, neutral, respectful.

"Oh, come off it, Kirk! You know perfectly well why we've dragged you here in the middle of the night! What did you do to the simulator?" Izikawa thundered.

"Sir, if this is going to be a formal hearing, I respectfully request that I be allowed access to council, pursuant to Academy regulation seventeen dash…."

"Shut it, Kirk!" Izikawa cut him off. "Of course this isn't a formal hearing, you idiot. I'm doing everything I can to try to keep it from coming to that. Now, just what did you do to Captain Delatorre's simulator?"

Jim relaxed inside, but tried not to show it. If Izikawa was trying to keep this out of a formal setting, then there was a good chance that it would end right here and now. "Sir, I would like to start by questioning the appropriateness of the so-called 'no-win' scenario. Since the computer has an essentially infinite number of opponents which it can generate for any given scenario, I fail to see the wisdom in such a blatant demonstration of this fact, absent any other educational objective."

"Which you can see," Delatorre put in, from Jim's left.

"Pardon, sir?" Kirk asked.

"Any other educational objective which _you_ can see, Mr. Kirk. Did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe, we had a goal in mind that the magnificent James T. Kirk couldn't discern?" Delatorre spat. He was mad and it showed, and the marked contrast between his demeanor now relative to his calm in the briefing room was beginning to unnerve Kirk.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I fail to see…" Jim began.

"Exactly, Kirk!" Delatorre cut him off. "You failed to see…and you wrecked the Kobayashi Maru program so badly that my computer experts say it'll take at least a week to straighten out." Actually, once his team had found Chekov's device, Commander Spock had raised one eyebrow, pronounced it 'fascinating', and then stated flatly that he would have the program corrected and returned to working order in three hours, seven minutes. Still, Delatorre would be damned before he would tell James T. Kirk that!

"Sir, given the impossibility of the scenario, I thought that it might be a kind of test within a test…a chance to assess our ability to think outside the box, as it were," Jim said quickly. He wanted to put this idea out before the conversation went any further. Hearing this, Delatorre snorted and shook his head, but Izikawa silenced the Captain with a raised hand.

"Explain, please, Mr. Kirk," the Commandant said. Polite as it was, it was not a request.

"Thank you, sir. My reasoning was this: since the computer can always beat any cadet in the simulator just by generating an impossibly large number of opponents, then why bother putting us through such a stressful and complicated scenario? Since the Academy is not known for wasting time or resources, and essentially everything we're exposed to has a purpose behind it, then it stands to reason that the no-win scenario must have a function other than to humiliate every command-line cadet. That being said, I set out to try to find a way to defeat the no-win scenario. And, it would appear that I was successful." Kirk grinned and sat back, doing everything he could to project an aura of respectful satisfaction—the face of a man who has done his best and now expects to be rewarded for finding the solution that was hidden all along.

Izikawa's face would have done a Vulcan justice. "I…see, I think. So, you believe that the Kobayashi Maru scenario was set up to encourage cadets to cheat by reprogramming the simulation?"

Kirk saw the trap in the innocent-seeming question and phrased his answer carefully. "Sir, it was never my intention to cheat on the scenario. Rather, since the program itself seemed to be the weakest link—the most obvious target for a counter-move, if you will—it was logical to work to overcome that particular obstacle and allow me to complete the scenario successfully…which I did, this morning."

"You sure as hell got that right," Delatorre snorted, and took a drink of what Jim thought might be scotch, neat.

Izikawa merely nodded fractionally, whether to him or to Delatorre, Jim wasn't sure. Still, he hadn't rejected the argument out of hand, which had to be a good sign.

"Commandant, Captain, here at Starfleet Academy we are constantly encouraged to look beyond the obvious, to 'think outside of the box', to generate novel solutions to the problems we encounter. We're told that this is the best way to prepare us to face the unknowns of the galaxy, always looking to see what lies behind the deceptively simple. Was it wrong of me to assume that the Kobayashi Maru scenario was the only single exception to that philosophy? And, if so, could you please tell me just what clues to this I missed, because I certainly haven't been able to find them on my own." His best arguments made, Jim sat back and tried to breathe normally.

Finally, Izikawa spoke. Delatorre seemed content to nurse his scotch and wait for the Commandant to make up his mind.

"An interesting argument, Mr. Kirk, and one I find…compellingly original in its conception and structure. Now, about Mr. Chekov's involvement…."

"Sir, with all due respect, this incident is completely my responsibility," Jim said quickly. "I was the one who conceived the plan to modify the simulator program, I sought out Mr. Chekov for his expertise in programming, and I was the one who convinced him—using this same argument—that altering the simulator programming was an acceptable, perhaps even desirable course of action. If there has been any error made here, it's been mine and mine alone."

"Very gallant, Mr. Kirk. So then, would it be accurate to say that you seduced Mr. Chekov into assisting you in this little demonstration of yours?" Izikawa asked without expression.

"Sir, while I would not use that term, it is correct in that I convinced Mr. Chekov to assist me in the necessary program modifications. As you are no doubt aware, Mr. Chekov's computer skills far exceed mine, which are rudimentary, at best."

"You're damn right about that, Kirk," Delatorre put in sharply. "Of course, you'd have to have help hacking my simulator. There's no way you'd ever be able to pull that one off by yourself."

"Calmly, Captain," Izikawa said, glancing at the instructor. "And what about your…personal relationship with Mr. Chekov, Mr. Kirk? Was that a part of your…plan to convince Mr. Chekov to assist you?"

Jim stiffened, and felt his face burn. "Respectfully, sir, my relationship with Mr. Chekov is none of your damned business!" he said hotly, then immediately regretted it when Izikawa raised his eyebrows.

"Mr. Kirk, are you aware of Mr. Chekov's age?" the Commandant asked in the same flat tone.

"Yes, sir…Mr. Chekov is seventeen years of age, which makes him a legal adult in the eyes of the City of San Francisco, the State of California, the planet Earth, and the Federation…as well as multiple other entities, all of whom recognize him as having attained his majority."

"What about the sex?" Delatorre snapped.

"Sir, as an adult, Mr. Chekov is permitted to engage in consensual sexual activities with whomever he pleases."

"So you admit to having sex with Mr. Chekov, Mr. Kirk?" Izikawa asked.

"Again, sir, with respect, that's none of your business." Jim answered, more calmly than he felt. Inside, he was raging at himself for saying too much.

"You can't nail him on that one, Izzy, the kid's legal," Delatorre put in, then went back to nursing his scotch.

"It has never been my intent to 'nail' anyone, Captain. My intent is to determine what happened and why, and where we should proceed from here." Picking up a datachip, Izikawa held it up for Kirk to see. "Mr. Kirk, here I have Mr. Chekov's sworn and witnessed statement to the effect that it was he who first came up with the idea of reprogramming the simulator, he who convinced you to repeat the test until he could modify the program, and his invention which made the entire sordid affair possible. He says that he did it as a prank, but convinced you with some idiotic story about 'hidden lessons' and 'secret test goals' to get cadets to 'think outside the box'. He further stated that he finds your own computer skills to be laughable, and that he selected you as the cadet most likely to be stupid enough to repeat the no-win scenario multiple times for his benefit. He also says that you are at best an adequate bed partner, and that he seduced you to satisfy his own curiosity—apparently you have quite the reputation, Mr. Kirk—and that as far as he's concerned, he is finished with you."

As Izikawa's calm voice and piercing gaze bored into him, Jim felt his soul begin to wail. Why was Pavel doing this? And, why would he say those things, about their relationship…about him? Biting the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming at the Commandant, Jim replied in a tight voice.

"Sir, with respect, Mr. Chekov's statement is inaccurate."

"All of it, or just the part about you being lousy in the sack, Kirk?" Delatorre asked casually.

Commandant Izikawa shot a glare at the Captain. "Quiet, E.D. You're not helping." Then, he turned back to the fuming cadet. "So, Mr. Kirk, you dispute Mr. Chekov's sworn statement?"

Jim almost snapped 'damn straight, you arse!', but caught himself. "Sir, with respect, I have not personally seen the statement to which you refer, and so I am unable to either confirm or dispute its particulars at this time." Then, fighting his emotions, he sat still, waiting.

Izikawa sat there, just looking at him, then set the chip down. "Mr. Kirk, you have the makings of a fine adjudicator. Have you considered a career in the Starfleet Justice division?"

"No, sir," Jim managed to get out.

Izikawa merely nodded. "I see. Mr. Kirk, are you aware that Mr. Chekov is a terrible liar?"

Jim blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Sir?"

Izikawa gave a small, tight smile. "Son, that boy spun us a web of lies a blind man could see through. Of course we know you went to him first, and that he did the programming while you were going on sandwich runs. Oh, and tell him that we found his device, too, by the simple expedient of doing a subspace sweep when we tried to reboot the program. Esteban, it took your team, what? Three or four hours?"

"Four and a bit," Delatorre said, rising to refill his glass from the sideboard. "But still, those damned things are going to make my job a lot harder when they become widespread."

"Oh, shut it, E.D.," Izikawa said lightly. "You know they'll be just as useful to you, if not more so." Turning back to Kirk, he went on, much more pleasantly. "Kirk, this Academy is under surveillance around the clock, every day of the year. Did you honestly think that you could pull something like this off without me finding out about it? Especially since you used a Maintenance passcard to open up the computer room? Son, did it ever occur to you to wonder where that card came from?"

"Sir…I was not aware of the surveillance, and would that not be a privacy violation?" Kirk asked, flummoxed. "And…I thought the card was a forgery." He winced at having to make the admission, but since they obviously already knew about it….

"If this wasn't technically a Starfleet instillation, then probably, yes. But, you sign away a large chunk of your privacy when you join up…especially if you wind up serving on a ship." Izikawa grinned. "Also, did you ever think to wonder just why that 'forged' card works as well as it does?"

"No, sir," Kirk said, honestly. It was one of those things he'd just accepted as a given…and the expense and difficulty he'd gone through to get the damn thing argued that it had to be quality goods.

"It's inevitable that a certain number of forged access cards like that will circulate every year," Izikawa was saying. "I've got over a thousand highly intelligent people here, some of whom aren't very good at following rules. So, one of the first things I did after I became Commandant was to corner the market on them. Your 'forgery' was actually made in the same shop as standard-issue cards. I just arrange for them to be distributed through somewhat unorthodox channels." He chuckled openly at the look on Kirk's face. "Oh, come now, Mr. Kirk! Surely you can see the advantage in having the ability to track people's late night escapades! Remember, not all of the people here are future officers…and the Klingons and Romulans have been known to use a spy or two, on occasion."

Kirk nodded, a bit overwhelmed. Once it had been point out to him (by rubbing his nose in it) he understood the Commandant's reasoning. And, he found himself reluctantly nodding in agreement with the policy.

The Commandant was eyeing him shrewdly. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't spread that little bit of information around, Kirk. Oh, tell Chekov…he's probably figured it out by now, if the gaps in the standard Security logs are any indication…but tell him that he missed a set of backups—and I don't want him looking for them, either."

Captain Delatorre shook his head. "Izzy, you're wrong about that. The day after Chekov graduates, I'd turn him loose on every so-called secure computer on this campus. Then, when he's laid them open like a slut's legs during Fleet Week, have him tell you how to make them _truly_ secure."

"So noted, Captain," Izikawa smiled. "I'll take it under advisement. So, Mr. Kirk…I have a statement from your Mr. Chekov, confessing to multiple violations of Starfleet regs and various assorted laws. By his own admission, he's guilty of numerous crimes including breaking and entering, destruction of Starfleet property, theft of intellectual property, violations of secrecy and security protocols, incitement to malfeasance—that would be _you_, Kirk—and a good half dozen others. I can't charge him with sexual misconduct, because you're technically an adult, too, but I've got more than enough to not only have him expelled, but sent away to a rehabilitation facility for at least twenty years."

"Sounds to me like the boy's pretty well screwed," Delatorre said casually. For all the concern in his voice, he might have been commenting on the weather.

Jim Kirk thought his heart was going to stop. "No…" he whispered, then went silent as his throat closed off.

"Yes, Mr. Kirk? You have some objection to that?"

"Please…sir, you can't!" Jim managed to choke out.

"I assure you, Mr. Kirk, the Commandant can do exactly what he just described in this case," Captain Delatorre said dryly.

"Sirs, please…don't do this to Pavel! You know that he's not the one who put this whole thing together…I did it, and dragged him into it, so punish me, instead." Jim was as close to begging as he had every been, and would have gotten down on his knees if he thought it would make any difference.

"You would be willing to sign a statement of confession to that effect, Mr. Kirk?" Izikawa asked coolly.

Jim set his jaw and nodded. "If you'll agree to clear Mr. Chekov of all charges, then yes," he said. He hoped that the two officers wouldn't hear the quiver in his voice, but they probably did. "Give me your word that you'll let Pavel go free, without repercussions, and I'll sign anything you want me to sign." He stared directly at the Commandant, willing Izikawa to believe him, to let Pavel go.

Delatorre sipped his scotch while the Commandant just looked at Kirk like he was being measured for a prison jumpsuit. Finally, the training Captain spoke up.

"Told you, Izzy. Offer to let the Russian go, and Kirk'll fall on his sword in a heartbeat."

"I didn't say he wouldn't, E.D., only that he'd insist on Chekov being cleared, first." Izikawa shook his head. "Unfortunately, Mr. Kirk, that's not what I've decided to do," he said.

Jim swallowed, his mind racing. There seemed to be nothing he could do right now to salvage the situation, so, "Sir, before you go any further, I would like to formally request that I be allowed to seek legal council, and that these proceedings be transferred to an open forum."

"Request denied." Izikawa's voice was as cold and implacable as an Andorean winter. Then, he softened just a bit. "Son, if I had wanted to crucify you two boys, I wouldn't have stayed up this far past my bedtime talking to either of you." Ignoring his friend's snort from the general area of his wet bar, the Commandant favored Kirk with the first friendly look he'd had since entering the room. "No, I wanted to make you sweat, just a little, to drive home just how serious this potentially could have been," he sighed. "Sometimes, I have to do things like that, to keep you young fools from doing stupid things like this down the road. I trust I've made my point with you, Mr. Kirk?"

Kirk swallowed heavily, then nodded.

Izikawa nodded back, pleased. "Somehow, I think I also made my point with Mr. Chekov, as well…but it's something I want the two of you to discuss over the next few days. Understood?"

Kirk nodded again, very serious. He had a _lot_ of things that he and Pavel Chekov were going to be discussing in the very near future.

The Commandant went on, and this time there was no mistaking the smile on his face. "Overall, I think you two did a damn fine job of making a lot of people around here, like E.D. over there," he nodded at the Captain, "look like prize chumps."

"You'll pardon me if I'm not laughing with you," Delatorre said, but he was making a wry grin when he did, so Kirk began to relax every so slightly.

"Personally—and if you let this go any further than this room, or maybe Pavel Chekov's ears, I'll have you flayed alive, understand me?—I think you're exactly right about the damned no-win scenario. Of course, I keep getting overruled every time I try to kill it, so part of me is glad that somebody finally came up with a way around it that makes it sound like that's what we were looking for in the first place." Ignoring Delatorre's snort, Commandant Izikawa went on. "Still, you've managed to ruffle a lot of feathers, and there are going to be those who will be screaming for your head on a platter. I can keep Chekov's name…and neck…out of this, but it'll mean that you have to shoulder the whole thing yourself. How do you feel about that, son?"

Jim didn't have to think about it. "I'm fine with that, sir. Just keep Pavel out of it."

Izikawa nodded. "I thought you might say that. Good enough. Now, there'll have to be a formal session before the Academy Board, in which they'll drag you down front and try to eviscerate you publicly, but ultimately Admiral Barnett will turn it over to the ethics committee for a hearing, where it will be ruled a brilliant but somewhat misguided attempt to circumvent the no-win scenario, and then quietly allowed to drop. I may be able to get you a commendation for original thinking—the gods know you deserve it—but don't count on it. Acceptable?"

"Acceptable," Jim stammered, more than a bit overwhelmed. "Sir, you can do that?" he asked, then realized how out of line the question was.

Izikawa smiled, while Delatorre choked back a laugh, then coughed as scotch came out of his nose. "Kirk, they're only Admirals, and this is _my_ Academy. Of course I can do that." He paused, shook his head at a memory he didn't choose to share, then sat back in his chair. "Now that we've gotten that out of the way, Kirk, I need to ask: just how much do you know about Pavel Chekov?"

"Sir? I don't understand," Jim asked, honestly. Just what was the Commandant asking him?

"All right, I realize that was a 'what am I thinking?' question, and gods know I don't want you anywhere near something like that for at least the next week." Izikawa nodded to himself, then continued. "So, let me tell you this: Pavel Chekov is easily one of the smartest people here at the Academy, people in this room included. Had you figured that out?"

Kirk nodded. It had been fairly obvious, after spending time with the young man.

The Commandant went on with his explanation. "Kirk, I know that you're no fool, yourself, but Chekov is…something very rare, indeed. As a child, he was teased for being 'different', and Medical says he'll always carry some of the personality traits—shyness, reluctance to speak up—he picked up from hiding his intellect for the first few years of his life. Nothing we can do about that, I'm afraid, but hopefully he'll be more confident as he grows up. When he was nine, his local school discovered that they had a prodigy on their hands, and immediately pulled him out of his age group for 'special' classes far beyond other children's abilities. Same psychological situation as before, only more so, because now it was adults doing it to him. At twelve, he was sent to Moscow University for a year, where he almost completed the requirements for a degree—would have, it they had let him take all of the courses. Fortunately, we got him at thirteen—and believe you me, that was no small feat—and we've had four years to do everything we could to challenge him. Trust me, it hasn't been easy, and until you came along, I was worried that he'd be bored during his last weeks with us. Now, he's about to graduate."

Captain Delatorre strode over to lean against Izikawa's desk. "We had to fight off Moscow, MIT, Cal Tech, Auburn, Cambridge, Johannesburg, Bejing, you name it…every school with a reputation for science or engineering wanted him, but we got him. There was even a rumor that the Vulcans were considering him for their Science Academy, and you know how they are about the 'smelly humans'," he grinned.

"I…never knew," Jim said quietly.

"And you never would have known, not from him," Izikawa said. "And, I don't want you to let him know that you know…but I don't think that you will. Just be aware of what a treasure he is, and what a terrible tragedy it would be for someone to break his heart and his spirit. Starfleet needs him, Kirk! Oh, he'll never be a starship Captain, he doesn't have the psych profile for it like you do," the Commandant waved his hand negligently as he gave out that little bit of information. "But, the Captain who has Pavel Chekov on his bridge will have a pearl beyond price…if he's smart enough to use it."

Kirk nodded slowly. Having Pavel on your bridge would be an asset a Captain would practically kill for, and he had very nearly gotten them both expelled just to satisfy his ego. He frowned as that thought hit him, and he looked up to meet Izikawa's eye.

"So, you've just realized what kind of disaster you almost caused, eh, Kirk?" he asked quietly. When Jim nodded, he nodded back in acknowledgement. "Well, you're both young, gods help you, and from all the signs that young man is well on his way to falling in love with you. How about you?" the Commandant asked.

Jim paused, began to answer, and then stopped. Did he really know? And, was it any of their business?

He was saved from having to say anything by Captain Delatorre. "Don't say anything, Kirk, because it will come back to haunt you. Neither Izzy nor I claim to be matchmakers, by the way. We just want what's best for all of our students."

Jim just nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Just so you'll be aware, Kirk…Chris Pike has already claimed Chekov for _Enterprise_, as soon as he graduates and she commissions. Chris also told me that he wants you, too. I don't know if it matters, but it looks like the two of you will be serving on the same ship for quite a while." Izikawa was once again boring into Kirk's skull with his gaze. "So, I'm going to give you some advice…either decide you're serious, or break it off in a friendly way, and soon. One way or another, Starfleet won't care. Despite our 'unwritten rule' about couples in the Fleet, we're not stupid enough to ignore the reality of what invariably happens between people. One of the reasons we monitor you all so closely here at the Academy is to try to catch potentially ugly situations before they get out of hand. In other words, forget the 'unwritten rule', if you two will be more effective as a couple than apart. What the Fleet will care about is if your relationship breaks one or both of you, because quite frankly, you're two of our very best." When he said that, the Commandant looked away briefly, almost like he was embarrassed by his admission. Then, he picked up the data chip and snapped it in half. "So much for that pack of lies," he said, grinning. "Kirk, you need to teach that boy to either stop lying, or learn to do it better, and that's an order. Now, you're both suspended for the next three days while I sort this mess out. Get out of my Academy until four days from now, get out of the City, even…and take that little Russian with you! Dismissed!"

Jim didn't need to be told twice. Bouncing to his feet, he walked quickly through the open door (the Security guard holding it for him gave him a smile and a wink) into the waiting room, where Pavel Chekov sat fidgeting.

"Jim, I wanted to tell you…I told them that I planned everything, it was I all along…" he began.

"Not here, Pavel…let's go back to your room, okay?" Kirk gave the younger man a solemn look that calmed him down a bit, and then the pair walked quietly back to Pavel's quarters. Once they were inside, Pavel locked the door and turned…only to be pushed up against the door by a furious Jim Kirk.

"Mr. Chekov, what the hell were you thinking?" Jim hissed, eyes blazing. "Telling them that it was your idea to reprogram the simulator? You almost got yourself expelled, Mister!"

Pavel shrank away from Kirk's fury, but couldn't escape the arms that pinned him in on either side. "I…was taking blame for damage to simulator, protecting you," he whispered. "You will be great Captain some day, so you must stay, at Academy! For me, is not so important…I can go to University, or back to village and teach…" he finished, misery coming off him in waves.

Kirk exhaled, then reached out to cup Chekov's face gently, his demeanor completely changed in a matter of seconds. "Oh, Pavel," he whispered, just as softly as the other man had. "Why?"

"I have said already," Chekov answered, refusing to meet Jim's eyes. "You must stay in Starfleet to become ship Captain. I…may do other things."

"But not go to the stars," Jim said gently. "Pavel, they told me what you tried to do, and I'm grateful, really…but it couldn't work, for three reasons."

At that, Pavel's eyes snapped to meet Kirk's, making Jim smile. "First of all, they know me too well. Second, they know you too well. And third, you can't lie worth a damn, love," he smiled, then leaned down to press his lips gently against the younger man's mouth.

Pavel returned the kiss just as gently, his arms coming up to wrap around Jim's neck. Shifting their bodies together in a way that was already becoming a habit, he broke the kiss so that he could whisper. "But, they said they believed, and you would not be expelled if I confessed."

Jim laughed, and if it was just a bit giddy with relief, then it was understandable under the circumstances. "Pavel, they have this place wired up, down, across and sideways. It's probably got as many cameras as a Klingon prison barge! They knew exactly what was going on, even before we did it."

"What? You mean..?" Chekov blanched as he realized just what that meant.

Kirk moved in to nuzzle his lover's neck as he whispered in his ear. "Oh, yes…they know just how you seduced me and took advantage of me, just to prove that you could break into their computers and show off."

Pavel was too busy squirming with pleasure to react immediately, but then he jerked to his full height. "What? _I_ seduced _you_?" he asked, his tone and posture indignant.

Kirk leaned back so that he could meet his lover's eyes, and so that Pavel could see his face. "Oh, yes, you seduced me. You, with those beautiful eyes," he grinned even more when Pavel began coloring. "And those kissable lips," Jim leaned in and give those same lips a quick brush. "And most of all, that spectacular butt," he finished, giving said buttocks a good squeeze, making Pavel 'eep' and jerk forward into Jim's arms. Jim allowed the force of Pavel's motion to drive him backwards to the bed, where he toppled down, pulling Pavel down on top of him. The lighter man shifted just enough to land gently on Kirk's chest, then looked down and growled at the older man.

"You told Commandant I seduced you! Now who lies?" he snapped, eyes flashing.

"Oh, yes…I told him I was helpless before your charms, and fought all the way back here each and every time you dragged me to this very room to ravish me senseless. I even asked him why Security didn't come to rescue me, given how loud I was screaming in pleasure…" Jim finally had to stop to give in to the laughter he could no longer hold back. The look on Pavel's face was truly beyond price, as he was embarrassed and angry at the same time.

"You… are _horrible_ boyfriend," Chekov finally declared, huffing and trying to roll away from the disgustingly happy man beneath him. Unfortunately, Jim had wrapped his arms around him, and Pavel Chekov was not going anywhere in the near future if Jim Kirk had any say in the matter.

"I know…and I think I deserve to be ravished again as a punishment. Don't you agree?" Jim asked, trying to reach up for a kiss.

"No! No more ravishing for you, maybe ever! Horrible boyfriend," Chekov repeated. Of course, Jim couldn't miss the faint twinkle in his eyes as he said that, so Jim immediately tried pouting.

"Please, Pavel? I'm sorry…will you please ravish me? Please, please?" He tried to look pitiful, but the giggling (which he couldn't stop) probably ruined the effect.

"No. Not for weeks, months even. Maybe not even until…tomorrow," Pavel narrowed his eyes as he made his proclamation.

Jim kept pouting, then looked over at the chronograph display. "But Pavel, it's already tomorrow…look! And," he gave up pouting and went back to grinning, "Izikawa gave us the next three days off, and told me to take you somewhere away from here while they 'investigate'. Won't it be a long three days if you don't ravish me?"

"_Da._ Three days is very long time not to be ravished. Poor, poor Jim," Pavel said sadly, shaking his head.

"I know. I don't know how I'll ever stand it, especially since the Commandant ordered me to take you out of the City for the next three days." Jim was still grinning, and he hoped that Pavel didn't notice what he was getting ready to do.

"He ordered you to take me and go?" Pavel's eyes widened in surprise. "Why, if I am such awful ravisher?"

"I guess he thought I needed it," Jim said, then pounced. His fingers reached up and dug into Pavels' ribs, causing the younger man to squeal and jerk away, falling off Jim's chest onto the bed. Jim was ready for that, however, and twisted to keep up the tickling while Pavel fought back uselessly. Finally, when they were both winded, Jim relented. As they lay there gasping, Jim pulled the unresisting Russian into an embrace, kissing his hair while they settled together.

When Pavel could speak again, he said, "You are still horrible boyfriend, most horrible boyfriend of all time."

"I know," Jim said, contentedly.

"You do not deserve me," Pavel went on.

"Absolutely not," Jim answered calmly, kissing Pavel's hair again.

"No ravishing for you, ever again," Pavel snuggled closer, settling his head firmly into the hollow of Jim's neck and shoulder.

"Never," Jim agreed, not worried in the least.

"You will take me…where?" Pavel asked.

"Where do you want to go?" Jim asked back.

"Perhaps…to beach? I have never been to beach," Pavel said in a small voice.

"We can do that," Jim replied. "In fact, I know this great little place in Cozumel that's just spectacular. We can swim, and sun ourselves…."

"And make love?" Pavel asked sleepily.

"And make love as much as you like," Jim assured him. "We'll leave just as soon as we can get packed tomorrow, and be on the beach by tomorrow afternoon, if you want."

"I want, very much. But most of all, I want to be with you," Pavel said, his voice small and full of hope.

Jim smiled, thinking about what Izikawa had said about _Enterprise_.

"Love, I think that we can manage that."

And, that being settled, they snuggled into each other comfortably. Within minutes, Pavel's breathing became deep and regular as he slept, while Jim lay there, thinking. If he hadn't taken the Kobayashi Maru, he never would have sought out the young man in his arms, never would have gotten to know him, and probably never have fallen so deeply in love with him.

Jim's last thought, as he drifted off, was that for him, the Kobayashi Maru had actually been a win-win scenario. Smiling, he joined his lover in sleep.

_fin_

**A/N:** Well, that's it for this story. Now you know, as Paul Harvey used to say, 'the rest of the story', including just why Captain Pike referred to Chekov as a 'whiz kid' (I couldn't let that one go, now could I?) Thanks to **Salima Master of Light** and **Hatori Soma**, the only two people to review chapter 2 as of yet (What is WRONG with you people? Don't you know that I'm feeding hungry plot bunnies here? Or have you all forgotten that plot bunnies only eat reviews?). Figures…just as soon as I start getting the hang of writing Pavel's accent, the story is over. *sigh*

Now, I wonder if we'll see these scenes in the Director's Cut of the movie, when it comes out on BluRay? I guess we'll just have to see.


End file.
